Robin (and Batman)
by Ephy
Summary: Dick Grayson was a happy, smiling aerialist - until his parents fell. (Or: Robin Origin story as I would like to see it on screen someday)
1. Chapter 1

_I know, there are already a lot of Origin stories for Dick, just in the comics. But we never saw any of those on screen - and this one has a specific point of view:_ _Dick's_ _._

 _Because, some day, I found myself wondering what would be needed to make a good Robin movie, and the answer was: to make it a_ _Robin_ _movie, not a_ _Batman_ _one._

 _Since I'm no billionaire nor producer, here's the fic based on that idea ;)_

xoxoxoxo

 **Chapter 1**

The sun shone high in a spotless blue sky, keeping the air warm despite a chilling wind more suited to this late October. The leaves had put on their brightest colors, yellow, orange, a few already darkening, their dance putting some color in the dark, gloomy city for Gotham.

This year, however, not only autumn pared the place with its colors. In a disused playground park from Gotham Village, stripped marquees were now raising brightly. And not only that! Fascinating folks were preparing their show, two tigers yawned in their cages, candy shops were erected where there had been none.

At the entrance of this unexpected little borough, a shining sign announced that this was Haley's circus in town, only 10$ for kids, a magnificent show! Clowns, tigers, flames, elephants! And the best of all – the Flying Graysons in their Flight of Death!

Fearless, certainly, because perched on the 9 feet high sign, a kid seemed busy with a multicolored paper chain the other end of which was already tied to the very top of the circus' big top, flapping at the wind.

"Dick!" someone called from one of the caravans. "Dick, are you done? We have to rehearse before noon!"

"Almost, mom!" the kid swore, grinning while finishing to tie up his end of the paper chain. "I just have to get down, now."

It wouldn't have been a problem for him to slide down to the ground – 9 feet wasn't all that high – but when he prepared himself to do just so, something grabbed him by the collar and lifted him gently from the sign.

He squealed, surprised enough to let go of the wooden plank, his eyes widening as he was put safely back to the ground. Baffled, he turned around – and started laughing when he realized who had so offhandedly helped him: the local elephant.

"Zitka!" he chuckled. "You're not supposed to run around like this! Also, how did you manage to make so little noise?"

Obviously, Zitka the elephant didn't answer. Dick still hugged her huge leg, then poked her to make her turn around.

"Come on. Mom is waiting for me and I'm sure someone's looking for you, too."

Good humored, Zitka followed him to the section where they had assembled the tigers, Zitka's fence, the horses, and the serpents' cages. One of the men busy there, Peter, folded his newspaper and came over thanked Dick for his help.

"We had just realized she was missing, and she's just that good at hiding for such a huge lady."

Dick raised his eyebrows at the newspaper Peter was still holding. It titled " _Incorruptible Dent cleanses Gotham_ " – how was that interesting enough for him not to realize his elephant had gone for a walk?

Rather than pushing, Dick still choose to laugh it off.

"She is, isn't she? She actually managed to startle me!"

"Care to give us a hand with Gunther and Gurbel?" he proposed, waving at the tigers yawning in their section.

"Sorry, mom's already waiting for me. Tomorrow?"

"That's a deal!"

Dick grinned then ran back to his family's caravan, hoping his mother wouldn't be too mad at him for being late. She was waiting for him at the entrance, hands on her hips.

"Here you are! I didn't see you around the sign anymore, where did you go?"

Despite the frown, her eyes were smiling, so Dick grinned.

"Just helped Zitka back to her fence. Should I put on the training suit?"

"No, use your performance second-best. This city is a big one, the show will have to be perfect. And the only way to do that…"

"Is training", Dick finished for her.

She grabbed him as he tried to get pass her, kissing his hair.

"That's my little bird. Go change, your father and I will be waiting for you in the big top."

He nodded and ran at his bed, where his suit had already been prepared. He smiled while changing. With the sun outside, they expected a lot of people to show up this evening. It was going to be an amazing show.

Ten minutes later, he was running toward the big top in his green and red thighs. They were starting to be a bit too small for him, his mother was going to curse his growth spur for sure.

"I'm done being patient, Haly", a voice said from the other side of a caravan. "This is my town, it goes by my rules. Do you _understand_ me?"

Dick froze at the menacing tone. He didn't recognize anyone from the circus. What the hell was happening?

Silent as a ghost, he slipped between two caravans to take a look at whoever was talking. Three sinister men were standing right outside Haly's place. They wore pointy hats and one of them was smoking a cigar. Dick could smell its stench from where he was hiding.

Why _was_ he hiding? They weren't supposed to be there – _he_ was. And yet… Yet he felt scared for some reason. His instincts insisted for him not to show himself. _You should always listen to your instincts, son_ , his father kept telling him. _In the air like in life, they are right more often than you think_.

"Listen, Mr Zucco. We're only here for a few days, that's all. Then we'll be gone."

"I don't care how long you're here", the smoker pointed out. "I made you an offer. If you refuse… Heh, who knows what might happen?"

"It's only for a few days. You won't even feel like we're here. I don't want trouble."

The men laughed. It didn't feel funny nor nice.

"Then you should pay, Haly. I'll send someone later on. Don't be surprised by the consequences if your answer is still the same."

The three men left at last. Dick didn't feel relieved at all. He waited for them to be totally out of sight before getting out of his hideout – but he didn't dare to talk to Haly. Instead, he slipped on the other side of the caravans, getting back on his way to the big top.

He had a rehearsal to start and that required his full attention. Soon, he'd forgotten everything about the accident.

xoxoxoxo

The big top was packed full, as planned, and until now the show was a success! Dick felt the usual thrill of adrenaline while getting prepared to climb on the mat, dressed in his very best, this time. His dad nodded at him and they slipped at the mat's base, climbing while Jefferson, the ringmaster, distracted the crowd by talking, starting his presentation of the _Flight of Death_.

Dick beamed while observing the sea of people above them. A lot of kids, families, but also couples who wanted to enjoy a magical evening. He couldn't wait to start! Performer born and raised, he loved to see all those faces turning to him in awe. It was an amazing experience.

Then finally the spotlight turned to them – his father and him on one mat, his mom on the other. Dick grinned, waving at the crowd, then specifically at their surprise VIP of the evening: Bruce Wayne, who attended without notice, taking them all by surprise. All performers had been told to pay a special attention to him anyway.

The show began, his parents soaring into the void, flying. His mother let go of her trapeze, curling in the air in a perfectly calculated curve – until his father caught her by the wrists. People were already making _ohs_ and _ahs_ while the couple swung back to Dick's platform.

Dick prepared himself, still grinning, delighted to make people smile, and jumped to join them in. The crowd gasped as his father let go his mother to catch him, Dick and her exchanging places on the trapeze.

"And here is the _Boy Wonder, Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons!_ " the ringmaster was announcing, while the crowd cheered at their success.

Dick had been grinning for so long his cheek ought to hurt. His father winked at him while they landed back on the platform.

"Feel ready for the quadruple?"

"You bet!" Dick answered, feeling up for anything.

His dad nodded at him then sent him back flying for the next part. Dick only made a double to reach his mother who was waiting to catch him. At next pass, he grabbed the trapeze to be next to her, shoulder to shoulder, making his body move alongside hers like a smaller shadow.

This part of the routine was new since, at twelve, Dick was finally close enough to his mother's weight to pull this one off. They jumped together, following the exact same curve, and caught together the bar John Grayson was now holding in his hand like an extension of the trapeze.

People cheered again, clapping. Dick could see a lot of them were on their feet already, fascinated by the performance. This was good!

His mother and he let go his father's bar at the same time to go back to their platform. His mom smiled at him.

"You're sure about the quadruple?"

Dick nodded, serious all of a sudden. He hadn't missed one in months, but hadn't performed so many of them during a real show, and never without a net like tonight. Yet, he knew he could do it.

"Alright. Now is the time then."

She made a sign to the ringmaster, who in his turn waved at the musician for them to start rumbling at their drums, warning everyone that something special was being prepared.

"And now, the most difficult trick of them all, the very one only three people on Earth can do… but our Boy Wonder can… The _quadruple somersault_!"

Flying was as easy as walking, as easy as breathing. But this – this one was hard, this one Dick had had to work to reproduce. However, he felt no fear at all while soaring from the platform. He felt the wind, heard the almost-silence beneath him, then just… flew.

One second – and it was done, his father's hand clasping safely around his wrists. He had made it! He grinned at the crowd in answer to their ovation, then went safely back to the platform while his parents finished the show.

He had made it! People looked so _happy!_ One of the kids wasn't even watching the end of the performance, staring at Dick with so much awe he was gaping from it. Dick winked at him, hoping he would see it even from so far away.

Then a strange sound slammed under the marquee. Dick's attention snapped back to his parents. One of the trapeze's ropes had broken.

His dad was still holding on by one arm, his other still clinging to her mom's wrist.

The music was stopping.

Someone screamed.

 _One of the trapeze's ropes had broken_.

"Mom!" Dick shrieked. " _Dad!_ "

Another snap echoed in the ring. The other rope had given in. People screamed. There was movement beneath him.

All Dick could see was his parents falling. Falling. _Falling_.

" _Nooo!_ "

He jumped, not caring about his own safety, one hand grabbing the remaining trapeze while his other tried to catch the rope – but too late. Way too late. They had reached the ground in a horrifying, humid noise.

Dick was left alone on the trapeze.

xoxoxoxo

Even much later, Dick never remembered exactly how he had gotten down from the trapeze. Peter and Jefferson were there, and Joey and Pedro and all the others, while Mr Haly tried to calm the crowd down. Dick felt cold. His legs were trembling. His vision wasn't exactly blurry but he couldn't really see anything, either.

"Kid?"

Someone was talking to him. Somehow, it didn't feel very important.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

"Your name is Dick, right?"

His name brought some of his attention back into present times and Dick focused on his interlocutor at last. He was a tall, good-looking man. He was studying his face. His clothes seemed nice. The face wasn't familiar and yet, not entirely unknown, either.

A name finally emerged from Dick's foggy thoughts.

"Mr Wayne?"

"Yes. Yes, please call me Bruce. Dick, you should sit down."

Why had the others let him near? Outsiders weren't allowed backstage. But this was a VIP. Maybe that was why.

The hand on his shoulder guided him gently yet firmly to a chair. Dick felt too exhausted to resist. He sat down. Something warm landed on his shoulders. It was the man's coat, Dick realized. He made a movement to protest, but Bruce Wayne stopped him.

"Keep it. You need it more than I do, right now."

Dick didn't insist further. It was so _cold_ … He grabbed the coat's tails to close it around him. It smelled of expensive cologne. His eyes were wet. _Dad_ …

"Why aren't the cops here already?" Peter was asking, his anger audible despite his undertone.

"Those things take time…"

"Two people just d…"

"Hush!"

Dick ducked his head. Mom. Dad. He couldn't… He didn't manage to… It didn't _sink in_. Not really. This felt like a dream. Nightmare. Whatever. _Not real_.

"Don't worry", Bruce Wayne told him in a strangely shooting voice. "They will be there. We will find out what happened."

Did it matter? Dick wondered, before deciding that yes, it _did_. They had rehearsed the routine in the afternoon and had of course checked the ropes in prevision of the net-less performance. Everything had been normal.

Everything, except…

Dick grabbed the man's sleeve.

"This wasn't an accident", he whispered in confidence.

It pained him to admit as much, especially since he wasn't sure, not sure at all. He didn't know what would be worse, actually. An accident was dramatic and devoid of any meaning. A _murder_ … That meant _someone had to pay_.

"No, it wasn't", Bruce confirmed, startling him out of his thoughts.

He looked up at the man once again. Seeing that, the richest man of Gotham got down on one knee to talk to him face to face.

"Don't worry about that right now. Whoever did this will be stopped. You know what? Since the cops aren't here yet, I'm going to call the best detective in town to put him on the case. What do you think?"

Dick nodded. This would be… good, right? Bruce didn't get back on his feet to make the call, waving at someone to bring him a chair instead. Weirdly enough, someone _did_ , so he could make his call without leaving Dick.

Only then the kid realized he was still holding the man's sleeve. He hesitated to let it go, but he didn't want to. The others were all glancing at him while trying not to look him in the eye. They were nervous, they were… _painfully familiar_.

In comparison, Bruce Wayne felt strangely steady. Strong? Like he knew how Dick felt. Like he knew what would happen, what should happen, and that he'd actually make it happen. Because he was so rich? Dick didn't know.

"Jim? This is Bruce. There's been a double homicide in Gotham Village, at the circus. Yes. _No_ , they still aren't there. Of course someone called 911! Yes, I'm sure. I'm with their kid right now. … Yes. … Thank you, Jim."

He hung up. Dick stared at him, but the man seemed lost in his thoughts. It took him a few seconds before noticing.

"He's on his way. You will see, Jim Gordon is very nice. He… You can trust him. Okay?"

Dick nodded. Bruce's face softened.

"I'm staying here until he arrives. Is that alright?"

Dick tried to smile. It didn't work out, but Bruce seemed to get the meaning anyway. He gently put his free hand back on Dick's shoulder.

"I'm here."

So he was. They waited.

xoxoxoxo

Outside, the night was cold, despite Bruce Wayne's warm coat still hanging around him. The medical assistant who had arrived at the same time as Jim Gordon had given him some tea before declaring him fit to answer the detective's questions. He had then left to go inside. Dick tried not to think of what he was doing now.

He concentrated on Jim Gordon instead. Bruce Wayne had left him in his care after having made the presentation. Lieutenant Jim Gordon from Major Crimes, he had said. The man wasn't wearing a uniform, which Dick felt reassuring. Somehow, his Columbo-like trench-coat and the smell of cigarettes floating around him helped as well. Then again, he talked softly but confidently.

"We will follow this lead, of course, son. Not certain it's related to what happened, but we will follow it anyway. Would you be able to recognize the men if you saw them?"

Dick brought back his memories from the afternoon, thinking hard.

"The one with the cigar, Zucco, I could. He did all the talking. The other two… I didn't really look at them."

The detective nodded.

"Good. It's better than nothing. I know you would like to stay here for a moment, and get some rest, but do you think you could come over at the police station to see a sketch artist? Maybe tomorrow?"

"Now is better", Jim Gordon's partner interrupted. Dick didn't think much of him. That one smelt of _alcohol_. He recognized the signs. His mother always told him to stay away from such men. "If they realize the kid saw something… We'd better get this wrapped up asap."

Jim frowned at his partner but didn't contradict him. Dick squared his jaw. He didn't care about being in danger, but he wanted those men _stopped_.

"I can come now."

"We _can_ wait for tomorrow. Honestly, the sketches aren't easy to do. People's memories are bad."

"You could also ask Mr Haly."

"We will, son."

Jim's partner snorted. Bruce Wayne had presented both of them when they had arrived, Jim much warmly than the other man. What was his name again? Bullock, Dick remembered.

"What are you implying, detective Bullock? That I'm a liar?"

"After an accident like this, people don't like talking, that's all what I'm saying."

Jim glared at Bullock again, but too late. Dick paled. God, would those men hurt someone else? Would they do worse if they talked?

"We'll be leaving a patrol for the night", Jim reassured him. "They will accompany you to our office tomorrow."

Dick shook his head, careful not to spill any of his tea.

"Really, it's better now. Like you said, memories fade quickly. The sooner the better."

The two men exchanged glances over his head, too quickly for Dick to read the conversation they weren't having. At the end of it, Jim sighed.

"Alright, let's go, then. I don't want this to last longer than necessary. Harv, can you take a look at the scene?"

"Sure thing."

Dick looked at the fat man critically, then turned back to Jim.

"I can wait for you two to be done."

Jim's mustache twitched. Bullock rolled his eyes and went back inside the big top. Dick frowned.

"He is a good cop", Jim assured him.

Dick guessed he had to take his word for it. Jim called a patrolman from afar, asking him to bring them both back to the precinct. Probably a fancy name for the police station, because Jim invited him to get in the car. Dick hesitated on what to do with his drink.

"Just take it along", the patrolman told him while coming near. Ah, no, it was a patrol _woman_. She had dark hair. Like his mom. "You'll be careful, won't you? And it's only tea."

Dick settled on the backseat, buckling his belt. Both Jim and the patrolwoman seated on the front. The busy noises from the outside faded as the door closed. Soon, only remained the engine regular rumble and the radio faint cracklings, bits of conversations and announcements Dick couldn't quite make out.

He looked outside to cast one last glance at the circus – and frowned. He could have sworn to have seen a strange, moving shadow at the top of the marquee.

xoxoxoxo

 _Notes:_

 _For those who wonder: yes, those were Easter eggs (yes, there were more than one :p)._

 _Please let me know if you like the concept so far :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The plastic benches from the waiting room were really uncomfortable, so Jim had let Dick in the cops' locker room where actual beds were available. However, it smelled just as bad as the rest of the – precinct. Dick hadn't known what to expect but a sweaty, smoky atmosphere hadn't been it.

This was the night shift, Jim had explained, only half apologetic. Things became a bit better during day shift. But not much, Dick had completed internally.

He had still lain for an hour, pretending he was going to sleep. After the fifth more or less friendly stare, he slipped out of the room and started wandering. If asked, he could pretend he was looking for Jim Gordon's office. Dick knew where the desk was but _they_ didn't. If he crossed paths with Jim himself… he could pretend he was going to the restroom?

On the other side of the building. Totally.

In the end, he didn't have to give any explanation because when he sneaked next to the main office room, he heard a familiar voice. Bruce Wayne had apparently joined them at the police station.

"… can go back there?"

"We aren't sure", Jim Gordon's voice answered. "He apparently doesn't have any relative at the circus. Only his parents."

They were talking about him. Dick stayed put behind the corner, hoping they would stay put. If he remembered correctly, there was a coffee machine over there, so they might just do so.

"No will establishing a legal guardian?" Bruce asked.

"Most people don't prepare for something like this. Your case was… different."

"It always is, in my circles", Bruce stated, matter-of-factly. "What will happen to him, then?"

Jim sighed.

"Maybe he can stay there while we look for relatives, until the circus leaves town. If we don't find any…"

"Gotham CPS."

Dick shuddered. What did this mean, _until the circus leaves town_? He was going with them! They were _family_! They couldn't take him away from them! And yet… Who would he live with? He couldn't keep his parents' caravan, not by himself.

He swallowed. The fall was not over, after all.

"I will find another way", Bruce decided, his tone final. "Where is he? Can I talk to him?"

"He's sleeping, or pretending to", Jim answered.

A performer recognized his cue. Dick cleared his throat, stepping forward.

"Hello, Mr Wayne. I should probably give you your coat back."

The man's features were oddly soft for someone who had sounded so wary only a few seconds before. Dick smiled tentatively. Both Bruce and Jim smiled back.

"I told you, you need it more than I", Bruce reminded him, which didn't make sense anymore since they weren't outside; it wasn't so cold in there. "Don't worry, I can buy myself a new one."

Dick opened his mouth to protest, ready to shake the coat out of his shoulders where it was still hanging. But then… Yeah. Maybe it was still a bit cold.

"Thank you", he said instead.

Bruce's answer was interrupted by a blonde woman who stormed out of the main office, her jacket hanging on one arm while she was trying to put on the other, detective Bullock on her heels.

"We have a problem", she told Jim. "Gilda Gold has just been abducted."

Jim swore. Dick blinked. He'd just learnt a few words.

"The DA's fiancée, just what we needed!" Jim complained. "So the Families decided to carry on their threats."

"I'm going", the woman said. "Allen is joining me at the scene."

"Do you need back-up?"

She glared.

"I was just asking", Jim commented mildly.

She didn't deign to reply, rushing to the door instead. Bullock fixed himself a coffee, cursing beneath his breath. Bruce's face had gone from soft to icy, then switched to worry when Jim's attention went back to him.

"I have to go", the billionaire said. "Harvey Dent is a friend, I can't leave him alone after this. If anything happens to Gilda…"

He looked at Jim, who nodded, then at Dick, whose eyes widened. Was Bruce Wayne asking him if it was okay to join his friend whose fiancée had just been kidnapped?

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Dick enquired. "I can give you your coat back some other time."

Amusement lit Bruce's face very briefly. The man nodded, formal.

"I will be in touch. Dick, Jim…"

Dick watched him as he left, noting his purposeful stance. He hoped that guy's girlfriend would be fine. Tonight… There had been enough sadness for one night. More than enough.

Dick swallowed.

"D'ya want me to keep an eye on the brat?" Bullock asked his partner. "You know, if you want to take some air on the roof."

Jim, who had been ready to reach out to Dick, scowled at Bullock instead. The fatter man shrugged.

"What? Not wanting rodents around, all of a sudden? Not like he'd help, anyway. Going around in a costume like that without backup nor nothin'? Someday, we'll have rodent pizza or a special porridge, if you know what I mean."

"Harv. That's enough."

Dick froze. Wait. Was he talking about Batman? Was it Batman that he saw on the big top? _Batman_ was investigating his parents' death? Hope burst into his chest, almost painful – and was quickly replaced by dread. Batman was going to keep looking for Zucco, right? It was _Batman_. He helped everyone. He wasn't going to let it go in order to look for that high-profile girl, right?

Dick felt sick at those thought. Why would his parents' death be more important than that very alive girl? But… What if Zucco was never stopped?

"Kid…"

He glanced at Jim, who had been observing him.

"I guess I can't stay here until we have news?" Dick asked, trying for a joking tone – but it got out tired.

"I'm afraid so", Jim sighed, apparently more annoyed at Bullock than at Dick for spying on him. "I'll talk with the social worker to see if you can go back to the circus…"

When they had left, the place had been full of cops and panicked spectators. The big top had been closed to the public, but it would have to be – to be scrubbed. Haly would have to handle the mess. Everyone was certainly distraught.

Dick couldn't stand the idea of their avoiding looks.

"Maybe not tonight", he suggested. "Maybe you can convince them tomorrow?"

Jim studied him in silence. Then nodded.

"Alright. I'll make a phone call to check where you will spend the night. Go back to the waiting room, I'll meet you there."

"Okay."

Jim raised his eyebrows.

"Not _somewhere in the building_ , son. In the waiting room."

Dick blushed and nodded quickly. The cop's mustache twitched, which Dick was starting to recognize as a refrained chuckle. He wisely decided to ignore it and to head for the waiting room.

The benches were still uncomfortable. Fortunately, he only had to wait for about twenty minutes. At that point, Dick was wishing he _had_ slept earlier. His hands were shaking with exhaustion and he was grateful for the coat.

He wished he had grabbed Elinore before leaving the circus. It was silly to still have a plush at twelve but right now he didn't care. He wanted some warmth, and softness, and _his mom_ , and – he couldn't think about her or he was going to cry.

"Son?" Jim called from the door. "Are you alright? I mean…"

Dick got up. It required more will than he'd thought.

"Yes, sir, no problem. Are we going?"

"Yes, we are. There is an available room at St Rita's orphanage. The sisters will take good care of you. It's a quiet place."

Dick followed him. He definitively needed some quiet.

They took Jim's car this time rather than a patrol car. He didn't turn the radio on, and let Dick sit at the front with him. They rode silently through the sleeping city. It was late, early, even. Dick felt his head roll to the side, heavy with tiredness.

Finally, the car stopped. The building was huge, and ancient, and dark. A big wall surrounded it, with a portal, which opened to let the car in. Jim parked in front of the entrance where a nun was waiting.

Before opening the doors, though, Jim turned to Dick, handing him a card.

"It's mine", he said. "I will call you if I have news but I want you to have my number as well, just in case."

Dick took it, a bit startled. Jim got out of the car before he could thank him properly. He put the card safely in the coat's pocket and followed.

"Thank you for opening your doors so late, Sister Mary Elizabeth", was saying Jim.

"No need to thank me; we're glad to help. You must be Dick. Welcome at St Rita's; I will show you around tomorrow if you don't mind."

Dick only wanted a bed, possibly with two or three blankets. He didn't protest.

"I will show you to your room, then."

The two adults exchanged a few niceties Dick didn't really register. Ten minutes later, he had been lent pajamas and given a bed – and he was asleep.

sososo

Days crawled by. The sunny weather hadn't lasted – Dick had been told it had been exceptional in Gotham city – and since _that evening_ , the sky had been uniformly white. Well. As uniformly as an old classroom wall, Dick guessed. Gray-ish with some darker spots.

Classrooms. He hated them, he'd discovered. He had always been homeschooled, the only possibility, really, when one lived on the road. Sitting still and silent for hours was pure torture. Besides, the hard truth was that his level in History and Biology simply wasn't as good as he'd thought.

By the end of the afternoon, he was busier playing with Jim Gordon's card than listening to the teacher. He jumped when the bell rang, freeing him at last. He grabbed his things, ready to run outside, but Sister Helen called him back.

"Mr Wayne is here for you."

Dick blinked, surprised to hear such an important person was taking the time to visit him. He had investigated the man a bit, though (read: Googled his name) and had learnt that he was an orphan too. Apparently, everyone in Gotham knew as much. Being such a public figure, Bruce himself must have assumed Dick knew, which explained why he had been so easily casual when they'd first talked – and proved being a billionaire didn't make you a genius.

"For his coat, I suppose", Dick answered to the question Sister Helen hadn't asked.

She was more curious than she would like to admit and he didn't want to give explanations. She nodded wisely, satisfied, and accompanied him to the hall where Bruce was waiting.

The man relaxed when seeing Dick, then gave a perfectly fake smile at the nun.

"Thank you so much for taking care of him. Would it be possible for us to go for a walk in the park? It hasn't been raining. Yet."

"Of course, Mr Wayne. Dick, didn't you say something about a coat…?"

"We will take care of that when coming back", Bruce assured her. "If you don't mind, Dick?"

Dick was trying not to laugh.

"Not at all. Shall we go?"

Bruce's eyes sparkled.

"After you."

Dick exited the hall, grinning, the older man on his heels. He wasn't _that_ old, he noted. In his twenties, or something. His hair wasn't white like Jim's, nor his face wrinkled.

"So. How are you doing?"

There was no point lying to someone who lived this too. Dick shrugged.

"I'm not overjoyed. The place is okay, I mean the sisters are nice and all. But it's not… it's not home. And they don't have a trapeze, I can't practice."

Not that practicing had much of a point if he wasn't to perform ever again, he didn't add. This was the worst: not knowing where the future might lay. The only certain thing was that nothing would ever be the same. His parents wouldn't be coming back. That void wouldn't be filled.

He was helpless. He hated it.

Bruce didn't offer vain promises.

"Any news from Jim?" he asked instead.

Dick shook his head. Then hesitated. He hadn't dared talk about this to Jim because cops didn't like heroes, right? Nor to any other adults because, honestly, he didn't want them to laugh at him. But to Bruce… He had a feeling Bruce would take him seriously.

"Batman is investigating", Dick admitted. "I saw him, that night."

Bruce didn't seem surprised. Was Batman such a given in Gotham? Dick had thought he was more of an urban legend. People didn't even agree if he existed or not.

Yet, the billionaire hadn't even blinked at the admission.

"Batman is a very busy person", he simply said. "Though I'm sure he's doing his best, you shouldn't put too much hope in him."

Dick sighed. It was so frustrating to _know_ who was responsible and not to be able to just go and confront him! That would certainly be more useful than sitting in a classroom to learn algebra.

"Did they find Miss Gold?" he enquired.

This time, Bruce's pace changed slightly. He was surprised Dick had remembered? Or maybe just worried about her.

"Not yet. No ransom, either. I think Harvey has been contacted directly but he wouldn't admit it."

"I read an article about him. Incorruptible, right? Is it why they went after her?"

"It might be."

Dick nodded. He wasn't a gothamite but who hadn't heard _stories_ about this city? Even at the circus, they had known. That was why they had performed without a net _that night_. Because Gotham was one of those places where you had to really impress people to get to them.

They sure had been freaking impressed.

"I hope she'll be alright", Dick commented, then couldn't help but to add. "Will Batman help her, too?"

Bruce put his hand on his shoulder, like the first time, and it was a comforting weight. He was wearing the same cologne which still lingered around his coat.

"I'm sure he will do his very best, in both cases. He's just a man, though."

Dick nodded.

"That's fine. If he does his best, it's the most important."

sososo

It was drizzling. Nothing thick, just little drops that made the atmosphere more humid than wet, as if people were walking in a cloud. There was no mist, though. Just the same dirty-gray sky as ever. It was of circumstance, Dick guessed. Funerals were supposed to be depressing, right?

Except… Except he didn't think his mother would have liked that. She would have wanted people to tell stories about her and her favorite jokes, dance on the music she liked, maybe perform a small show just because they could and were still alive.

His father would have wanted people to drink some cider, to raise their glasses to the times when he was there to raise his. Maybe some music on the background for him, too, something Jazzy and slow. And a picnic on the grass, he loved those, with giants three-cheese sandwiches.

Neither would have imagined they'd die at the same time, Dick thought. Nor had he.

Everyone from the circus was there. They wore their very best. Some had obviously had to buy something black to put on. Neither mom nor dad would have minded them being dressed in green and yellows, Dick decided.

The priest was talking and talking. Dick felt the urge to tell a joke. Everyone would start laughing, then be embarrassed, then laugh even more because of the embarrassment.

He refrained himself. People would probably be more angry than amused.

He was supposed to cry and be serious, right? One out of two wasn't so bad. People would think he was being serious just because of the tears, too.

Bruce and Jim were there too. Jim was dressed in black but wore his eternal beige trench-coat, which Dick thought was a nice change in the sea of blacks and… more blacks. He himself was wearing his favorite red scarf, which he had hidden in his bag so Sister Mary Elizabeth wouldn't comment on it.

It was only one of their three colors but that would have to do.

A hand pressed his shoulder with a weight which was now becoming familiar. Dick looked up. Bruce was silently handing him a handkerchief.

A _black_ handkerchief.

"Seriously?" Dick whispered while accepting the piece of cloth and pressing it to his eyes. "Even the handkerchief has to be black?"

"It's charcoal", Bruce confided.

Thankfully, Dick managed to muffle his laugh in the fabric, pretending to blow his nose.

Bruce's gloved hand rested on his shoulder until the priest finally stopped talking. No one commented on it, maybe because rich people had the right to do anything they wanted without being frowned at. For once, Dick was grateful for this specific bit of discrimination.

Then he had to go forward to salute the coffins in their hole. He wouldn't be giving this charcoal handkerchief to Bruce. It was going to be ruined.

He would have to thank him, later.

Everyone came to him to give him their condolences. It was horrible. Each of them wanted to tell him how much they'd loved his parents, how much they were going to miss them. As if Dick didn't know that. As if Dick wasn't going to miss them more than anyone else ever would. They were _his parents_.

He tried not to think about the fact this would most probably be the last time he'd see some of them. The circus had been supposed to stay in Gotham for three nights only; they had canceled the show in Bludhaven so they could stay four more days for the funeral. As soon as they'd go back to Gotham Village they would be packing their things to leave the next morning.

It was not _fair_.

There was supposed to be a few drinks before the funeral was declared officially done. People were slowly moving from the cemetery to the church after greeting him. Dick stayed there until there was no one left to shake hands with – no one except Jim, who was waiting for him.

"Do you have _news?_ " Dick asked the cop.

There had been none for the last four days, none since _that night_. Even before Jim opened his mouth to answer, Dick knew there would be none today, either – the cop's shoulders were way too low, as if he had to carry the world's weight.

"Not yet."

Dick stared at him. Then paled. There _were_ news. Bad ones.

"Please tell me."

"Haly did admit someone came talk to him", Jim said, "though he swears he doesn't remember any name. No one saw anyone suspicious after nightfall. I already told you the ropes were burned with some kind of acid, so it was definitively murder, but…"

"But you can't link it to Zucco", Dick finished, livid. "But there _is_ someone with that name, isn't there?"

"There is", Jim admitted reluctantly. "He and his wife swore they were at home."

"And you have no one to contradict him. But it was him! Who _else_ would have wanted to hurt my parents?"

"Are you sure they got along with everyone at the circus?"

"No, I'm not, but no one there would have taken the risk to hurt _me!_ " Dick yelled, before realizing what he had just done. "I'm… I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to shout at you. You're doing your best, and I know you do, and…"

"Don't worry, son", Jim said softly. "I am the one who should apologize. I know they're family to you."

Dick rubbed the humid handkerchief on his eyes.

"You're doing your job."

Jim nodded.

"For the record, I don't think it's anyone from Haly's. Like you said, they wouldn't have wanted to hurt a child, and doing this during a performance? Bad for business. Bad for morale. Besides, they would have had a harder time buying the chemical, not being familiar with the city."

Dick was shocked to feel submerged by a wave of relief. He hadn't _believed_ anyone from the circus would have hurt his parents, but… it still felt so good to have it confirmed.

"I'm afraid I can't stay any longer", Jim said.

"I know, you have a job…"

"Actually, my daughter has a competition at 4PM, and if I don't get her there in time she's going to raise all seven circles of Hell against me."

Dick grinned despite his cheeks' wetness.

"Then go. I wouldn't want her to miss her turn."

"You should get to the church. People are waiting for you here."

Dick nodded absentmindedly. Jim studied him, not moving away. Dick blinked, then realized the cop wouldn't move as long as he wouldn't head toward the church, so he did.

Bruce was waiting for him on the way there.

"I saw you were talking to Jim, I didn't want to intrude", the man said.

"It's fine. He… He still doesn't have news, Bruce. Zucco has an alibi and no one saw him at the circus. What am I going to do if they find nothing on him?"

"Dick…"

"They're going to _leave_ and my parents are dead, and their killer is just going to… Enjoy it? That's all? There's no way it ends like that!"

Dick hadn't expected himself to explode, yet it seemed right. After days spent waiting, worried about his future in this stupid orphanage, worried about his parents never being avenged, impotent to do anything to help – yes, he wasn't sad, he was _angry_.

And righteously so. If Batman was too busy, if Jim couldn't do anything because the law wouldn't let him…

"I'm going to talk to Zucco myself", Dick declared.

Bruce's face fell at those words.

"You can't. And I do mean that. It is way too dangerous… Zucco is an unscrupulous man. He would only laugh at you if you go, probably hurt you."

"I don't _care!_ I will find proof that he was there. I will make him talk!"

Bruce reached for him, but Dick stepped back.

"Who are you to tell me what to do anyway? Because your parents were killed too doesn't mean you have anything to do with me!"

"Dick… Please, listen to me."

"I don't have to listen to you, nor to anyone!"

Dick turned around and started running. He heard Bruce call after him, then the heavy pace of the man actually going after him – and he accelerated. The shiny shoes he was wearing weren't good for this kind of exercise, but he didn't care. He went straight for the graveyard's wall and jumped – like this – grabbing the wall's border and pushing on his arms – then landed on the other side.

There was a thump: Bruce had tried to jump over the wall in one movement and failed. Dick accelerated, slaloming around the passerby then crossing a road, dodging a car. He kept going until his breath felt like fire and his legs were trembling.

Then, only, he turned around. Bruce was nowhere to be seen. He was alone.

sososo

 _Ending notes: For those who wonder, yes, it was Sarah Essen :) I hope you enjoyed the story so far!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Guest of Honor, I hope this is soon enough ;)_

 _Sisternature365, thank you! I was really glad with the idea, myself :D Sorry I couldn't MP you to answer, apparently you deactivated the possibility._

 _Enjoy the chapter!_

 _sososo_

 **Chapter 3**

Dick had sneakers in his backpack. It was an old habit: only use his good shoes when necessary, then switch back to less onerous ones. He removed his tie and hid his white collar under his scarf. His coat was perfectly normal, warm and comfortable. He didn't look like some upper-class kid in it. Good.

Now the real work started.

He had also googled Zucco. He probably shouldn't have, he knew, but it had been too damn tempting – and, in the end, it was for the best. He took the bus to Gotham Village, then the subway, using what little money he had on him to pay for the ticket. The drizzle had turned into rain, so he put his hood on when he left the relative warmth of Gotham's public transport service.

He hadn't found Zucco's actual address but some articles had talked about the opening of his nightclub. Dick hoped it was an actual _nightclub_ and not, well, something else. There were little chances that the owner would be on site, too, but maybe there would be some clues on where to find him.

Or he might just get lucky. One never knew.

Dick eventually found the club's entrance, which wasn't exactly put forward during the day. The place stunk of alcohol and bodily fluids – he didn't want to know if the stain at the corner was water or… Ugh. Why did people have to act like animals when they were drunk? Why did they even want to get drunk in the first place? Adults were weird.

There wasn't anyone at the front door. Dick guessed it was closed and would only open at night, when customers would start to show up. So he circled the block, trying to find another entrance. Aha! The back gave on a parking with an opened big double garage door. It actually looked more like a warehouse than a club. Not that Dick knew what a club looked like. Maybe his imagination had gotten the wrong idea or something.

Or something. Three men were lounging around, leaning against a convertible. They were smoking and wore the same hats than those Dick had seen at Haly's. They could have brandished big ' _I'm a gangster'_ signs without being any more blatant. Was this a _sect_? The cult of the pointy hat. That would make a good name for a movie.

Dick tensed when he realized was stalling. He couldn't let the fear stop him! He _had_ to talk to Zucco.

Considering his henchmen were hanging around, maybe the boss actually was inside. Dick peeked at the windows. One of them was opened on the third floor. There was a van above it, and a pipe conveniently placed against the wall.

He would have said his lucky start was around, but considering the events of the last week, no, he wouldn't.

The first problem was the fence, though. Not because it was there – would be easy enough to climb – but because doing so would make a hell of a lot of noise. The gangsters didn't seem to be very alert but they wouldn't miss the sound of wire netting shaking against metallic posts.

Or would they?

Dick sneaked around the corner to at least be out of sight – and smiled. In the narrow alley flanking the building on that side were aligned trash containers and, right next to those, a public phone embedded in one of those plastic case. Whoever used a public phone anymore? Dick grinned. Well, him, apparently. There was but a meter between it and the fence. Climbing the containers and jumping over it was child's play.

Dick landed softly on his feet on the other side. He'll wonder about going back _outside_ of the fence later.

Maybe his lucky star _was_ keen on making up for the previous week, because the van's hood was right next to the building's corner, which allowed him to reach its roof while being hidden by the vehicle's larger back. He was very careful not to make any noise once there; the gangsters-wanna-be didn't look up. No one ever did.

Scaling the wall with the help of the gutter was not harder than doing so on the big top to reach the trapeze artists' platform when the ladder wasn't in place. He doing that used to drive his mom crazy.

Dick quickly dismissed the thought, concentrating on his goal instead. The window was thankfully still opened when he reached it. He put a foot on its border and glanced inside. It was a corridor. _Perfect_. He held onto the gutter with one hand, transferring most of his weight on the border, while his other hand slowly widened the window opening. It creaked slightly. Dick froze. Waited. Glanced downstairs. They hadn't noticed, too busy arguing about yesterday's baseball game.

He gripped the frame and slipped inside. He took a deep breath. He was in.

Now, all he had to do was to find Zucco. Easy. Oh – and the man would have to be alone. Dick really didn't want to confront him if he was surrounded by his minions. Even yellow ones. They would be cute with pointy hats, though.

His brain was babbling again, but that didn't stop Dick from looking around for a solution. The vents? They looked large enough for him to slip in and were likely to go through the whole building, allowing him to go around without being seen. However, he hadn't carried a screwdriver at the funeral. Note for next time: never run away without his Swiss Army knife.

Dick looked up. Aha! It was a false ceiling. Going back to the window, he climbed the border and reached for one of the tiles. They weren't sealed. He moved one away and lifted himself inside – then sneezed. God, the place was filthy. When was last time the maintenance staff had checked the cable network? Had someone _ever_ cleaned this place? Dick shook his head sadly.

Then he started following the corridor, listening. This solution didn't allow him to check on the rooms but he could circulate until he'd found _something_. He'd recognize it when he'd found it.

Fifteen minutes later, he had checked the whole floor without hearing anything else than scratches, which came more probably from mice than from Zucco. Or, considering the place's hygiene, from rats. Ew.

Dick slipped out of the false ceiling.

A man with a pointy had looked down at him.

"Oh, shit."

The man shrieked with surprise, Dick started to run, the man shouted after him, "You come back here you little shit!", which only made Dick run faster. Where were those damn stairs?

"Freeze or I shoot!"

Oh _god_ , they _were_ gangsters, _of course they were you idiot, they killed you parents!_ Dick slipped around the corner, reaching for his phone in the same movement, then stopped running. He had just hit the _record_ button when the thug caught up.

The man seemed unsettled to see him waiting there, but still raised his gun.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing you fucker?"

Dick refrained from pointing out the gangster's lack of originality regarding insults and looked right back at him, unimpressed

"Stay right there!"

"I am", Dick pointed out. "I want to talk to your boss."

The man seemed at a loss. He had the face of a guy who wasn't used to kids talking back – or anyone. To be fair, he had the face of a guy who you didn't want to talk back to. Not even his mother. That might have been what put him in this mess to begin with.

He was blinking at Dick. Alright, maybe he should have taken the opportunity to get away and come back later. However, there were little to no chances for a window to be opened again, especially a reachable one, especially after someone had managed to slip in.

Then there were steps echoing in the stairs – they had been right there, damnit! – and running stopped being an option. Dick turned a bit to be able to see whoever was coming without losing the sight of the gun still pointed at him.

Three men erupted, ready to fight. They saw Dick and stopped, puzzled. Dick frowned. When would people stop not taking him seriously? Also, did they _always_ go around in threes? Would the one he'd found alone be scolded for having been alone? Would his brain ever stop rambling when on adrenaline high?

Then the one who arrived last stepped forward. He wore a pointy hat and smelled of cigar.

It was Zucco.

"What the hell is this?"

Dick tensed. Zucco didn't recognize him. He had killed his parents, and he didn't recognize him.

" _This_ would be _me_ ", Dick cut in before any adult could answer. "You owe me explanations."

Zucco laughed. _Laughed_. Dick had never wanted to punch someone so hard before. To… to _hurt_ him. He clenched his fists.

"Me? I don't owe explanations to no one. Who paid you to screw around, kid?"

"I'm here on my own behalf", Dick said, straightening. "And you _do_."

"What on Earth do I owe you?"

"Two lives", Dick shot back, his anger starting to get the better of him.

Zucco blinked, then observed him with more attention. His lips parted in a horrible grin.

"You are the circus boy", he said. "No flying around anymore, heh?"

Dick couldn't punch him, he couldn't; he had to get him to _talk_. Hopefully, his phone would have enough memory to get it all.

"Obviously not", he answered, his voice thick with rage despite himself. "Aerialists usually work at least in pairs, though I guess I could go for a one-man show."

"Right. So what can I do for you?"

"What can you do for me. You _killed my parents_ , you _bastard!_ " Dick snarled.

"Hey, hey!" Zucco said, raising his hands, his tone falsely friendly. "Calm down! I didn't do nothing to anyone! The cops even _questioned_ me. _No one_ questions Zucco."

His smirk had become right down menacing, which only infuriated Dick more.

"Maybe you didn't do it, but then you sent someone who did! You menaced Haly's, then it happened, it's not a coincidence!"

"Aw, kid. Didn't anyone tell you? No proof, no crime. Also, welcome to Gotham."

He grinned at his henchmen who took the cue and laughed greasily. Dick felt sick. He wasn't admitting anything, even to a supposedly harmless child.

"I'm going to find a way", he threatened. "I saw your man, _that night_. I can testify."

Zucco snorted.

"Yeah, right."

"I did!" Dick insisted. "He was tall, with a pointy hat, badly shaved."

It was a shot in the dark because, of course, he was lying through his teeth. However, Zucco seemed to find it far from hilarious. His face went white with rage.

"Liar", he accused rightly. "You little shit aren't going to give me any trouble. And since you're insisting, I'm going to make sure you don't. _Get him!_ "

Dick dropped, dodging the big arms of the man behind him, rolling past him to gather some speed – then started to run. He heard the metallic sound of guns being drawn and jumped behind the corner. He couldn't go past them to reach the stairs so he headed toward the window, knowing all along he wouldn't be able to jump from the third floor without breaking a leg.

Oh screw him, screw his anger and his recklessness! If he died, no one would ever be able to stop his parents' killer! No one would even _care_.

No. Jim would care. Bruce would care. But he wouldn't be there to see it.

Rather than going for the window, he turned at the next corner and opened a random door. Rushing in, he slammed the door behind him and grabbed a chair to block the handle. It actually worked, which mean his lucky star was doing its best to compensate for his foolishness. However, it wouldn't hold for long.

He looked around him. It was an office. And he had picked the wrong side of the corridor; there were no windows to the outside. The only one opened on the vast dance floor, way too high for him to make off that way.

A first bang hit the door as the gangsters tried to force it, making him jump. What could he do? Hide in the false ceiling? They were bound to find him there, considering how he had met thug #1!

Suddenly, the sound of smashed glass exploded on the other side of the door and the light went out. There were screams, a few shots – Dick hid behind the desk. But they weren't aiming at the door. More screams, a horrible _crac_! The muffled sound of something mashed against something else, like, randomly, a skull and a wall. Then silence.

Someone knocked on the door. Dick didn't move.

"Open", an unknown voice ordered.

It wasn't the kind of tone one ignored. Dick observed, fascinated, as his body got up and headed to the door to remove the chair before activating the handle. Behind it stood a tall, shadowy figure, indistinguishable in the darkened corridor. Outside, the sun had started to set.

Dick's mouth gaped in awe.

"You're… the Batman? Really?"

"Aren't you Dick Grayson?" the shadow asked rather than answering.

"Hum, yeah."

"What are you doing here?"

Dick winced. He would totally have even if the tone hadn't been half that harsh.

"I wanted to get a confession out of Zucco", he explained, getting his phone out to show the dictaphone. It had stopped recording a few minutes ago, having reached its time limit.

The shadow frowned. How Dick could tell through its mask, that was a mystery, but he could _feel_ it was frowning. He bit his lip.

"You _are_ Batman, aren't you?"

"I am", the man admitted.

"Are you here because you're investigating on my parents' murder?"

"I was", Batman said. "Then I had to stop working on that to help _you_ instead."

Dick paled.

"I'm sorry! It was just… I needed to _do_ something!"

Batman didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting his gaze weight on Dick until the teenager looked down to contemplate his sneakers' faded gray. Only once this result obtained did the man turn around, his cape curling elegantly behind his back.

"Follow me."

Dick did. They didn't exit through the window though he would totally have managed to follow him; they took the stairs instead. They were backstairs and ended in the warehouse-like garage Dick had seen from outside. Stunned henchmen were tied up in a corner. The fence had an opened door on the side opposed to the narrow alley Dick had entered from. He hadn't seen it when going around the block which made him curse under his breath for having been blind in addition to foolish.

Then Batman turned in an alley. A car was waiting for him.

No, not a car. A black, slim, modified sports _marvel_. The kind whose engine _purred_.

"Oh my _God_ you have a _Batmobile!_ " Dick squealed.

Batman blinked.

"A… Batmobile?"

"Well, it's Batman's car. Batmobile." Dick blushed. "I'm sorry! I guess it already has a name."

"Not… really."

Dick gaped at him.

"It _doesn't?_ " How could one have a car _this cool_ and not name it? "Then how do you call it?"

"The car", Batman answered.

"Well, that's just sad", Dick commented.

This seemed to exhaust what little patience the hero had. He walked around the magnificent engine and said clearly: "Unlock doors." _And the doors actually unlocked_.

"So cool", Dick whispered.

Batman scowled at him. The man gave the impression not to be able to just _look_ at people. He could do menacing, _very_ menacing, and cold. This specific scowl had only very mild level of menace so Dick smiled as answer. That seemed to vex him.

"What are you waiting for?" the man asked, waving at the passenger's door.

Dick lit up. He mouthed 'really'? When Batman gave him a nod, he ran to the door and settled on the seat, marveling on the actual _computer_ installed inside. Was this a 3D map of Gotham? And statistics about the day's illegal activities! Was it connected to the GCPD's system?

Batman sat at the wheel. The door closed. Dick had been right; the engine _did_ purr.

"You can't just break into a club like that", the hero eventually said.

"You mean, like you do?"

Dick expected him to react like most adults when confronted to an annoying truth and ignore it, but Batman actually took the time to consider his words.

"I am trained for situation like this and I knew what I was going into. How dangerous it was, how many men were inside, how to take them down without getting anyone hurt. Did you?"

Dick was forced to shake his head.

"But there was no one around to get hurt, except for them!"

"And yourself."

"Alright, and myself. I was ready to take that risk."

"What did you expect to archive?"

Dick raised his chin.

"I wanted to find Zucco or his address. If I managed not to be noticed, I would have tried to listen to his conversations until he'd give a clue which I would have registered. If he wouldn't, I could still confront him and get a confession."

"Did that work?"

Dick winced. His silence obviously wasn't considered as enough of an answer because Batman frowned at him until he sighed – all the while managing not to take his eyes from the road. The man was impressive.

"Alright, no, it didn't."

"You weren't prepared. You couldn't have been." It wasn't a criticism, just a fact. That made it worse. "Besides, what did you intend to do if he didn't admit anything? If there weren't any armed men around?"

"I would have _punched him_ until he'd _said it!_ " Dick yelled, before paling at his own rage.

Had he really intended to do that? He looked at his hands. He had been almost ready to get at the man's throat _despite_ the guns. Alone, he would most definitively not have had any scruples to indulge that impulse.

"You do realize that was wrong."

It wasn't a question. Dick answered anyway.

"Yes."

"Do you know why?"

Dick blinked.

"Because one shouldn't just hurt people for no purpose? I mean, it would have avenged my parents, I guess, but they wouldn't have wanted me to do that for them."

Batman stayed silent for a few seconds.

"That's a good reason", he agreed. "If you want a more practical one, even giving him a beating wouldn't stop him. He has to go to prison so he won't be able to hurt anyone else's parents – and also to show to other people like him what happens when you break the law."

"But _you_ work outside of the law", Dick pointed out, curious.

"I find clues and information to help the police."

"And sometimes, arrest the criminal for them."

"No."

Dick jumped a bit, surprised at the vehemence of his denial.

"No, I don't arrest criminal", Batman continued. "I stop them. Only the police have the right to _arrest_ someone. If they do, it means I did my part of the job right."

"That you stopped someone who should be stopped", Dick elaborated, half-asking.

"And that I did so while giving them enough information for the system to pick it up from there."

The car stopped. Dick recognized the neighborhood; they were only two streets away from the orphanage. However, he didn't get out of the car right away, turning to Batman instead to finish their conversation.

"You mean you work outside of the system, but you still need the system to validate what you did."

" _Yes_."

Even through the cowl, Batman's approval was pretty intense. So was his attention. He was focusing on him, the rest of the world dismissed, both of them linked by the thin line of mutual comprehension. Dick shuddered.

The movement broke the spell. Without exactly changing, Batman's expression went back to blank and a click indicated the door unlocking.

"I trust you can find St Rita's from here."

Dick inclined his head affirmatively and exited the car. He could recognize a dismissal when he heard one. As soon as his feet reached the sidewalk, the engine roared. He watched the car disappear, surprised Batman wouldn't make sure he was going back.

Then he realized that Batman hadn't needed to. He'd _known_.

Dick smiled – and headed back to the orphanage.

sososo

 _Ending notes – I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The common room was the place where orphans were supposed to bond over educative board games, exchange their thoughts about the few books available on the shelves and sometimes watch a movie together. In practice, the younger ones where fighting over the various games' pieces which they used to play war while the older ones played on their phones or isolated themselves with their headphones.

Dick had opted on the isolation but, since his phone wasn't exactly able to produce music – his parents had not agreed to release any budget to buy him a phone with _at least_ 4Go memory yet when they'd died – he had picked one of the books and pretended to read.

The plot wasn't that bad, actually, but it was hard to concentrate with the sounds of the TV in background, hard metal playing too loud in someone's headphones and one of the youngest whining about his toy.

Dick was deciding to let his annoyance win and to retreat in his room when a special flash interrupted the TV's program – something about _Batman_.

"… apparently _attacking_ the mansion, though the force assembled around it wouldn't comment. GCPD lieutenant Jim Gordon refuses to answer any questions, but several witnesses confirm the Bat is on site."

The camera switched on a woman holding an 8 or 6-year old child against her.

"It's him, he's there! He just saved my little Jackie who was being pushed around by a group of rascals on O'Brian's, and he told us to move away because there was going to be trouble!"

More than the woman's story, Dick was convinced by the look of absolute betrayal the kid was shooting at his mother. Batman had just saved him and she was ratting him out to have her minute of fame on the news' channel.

The camera switched back to the presenter, who explained that the Falcone's family was a very respectable one, their factories providing employment to many gothamites. Over her shoulder, Dick could distinguish at least four police cars.

What was Batman doing? Dick didn't get it. If he was working with the police, why did he attack a random citizen? But then, they'd say Zucco was _respectable_ too, wouldn't they?

Dick bit his lips. Could he trust Batman more than he did the media? _Or_ the police? They had said Jim was there. Jim wouldn't go against Batman if he was doing something right. However, Jim wasn't really doing anything to stop Batman. The police seemed to just sit around and wait for something to happen while preventing the journalists to get closer.

How could Dick know who to trust? Batman had made so much _sense_ when they'd met. He had actually talked Dick out of hurting people. He couldn't possibly be attacking an innocent.

Which meant that somewhere in that mansion was a bad guy. And the police couldn't help. They might even have to arrest Batman! He was being _set up_.

Dick closed his book.

He mumbled something about being tired and headed for his room. There, he stuffed his bed with clothes to give the illusion of someone sleeping and grabbed his bag. This time, he took with him his Swiss Army knife and also some rope, the bandages he used for his wrists and a lighter. He had no idea what he might use those for but they seemed to be useful items to have around.

He traded his blue jean for a black one and put a red hoodie over his yellow shirt – he didn't own any dark one but at night, red was as good as black – then his brown jacket over the hoodie. That would do.

He opened his window to slip outside. There wasn't any convenient pipe there but he didn't need any: the ancient stones gave enough grips for him to climb down. The night's darkness wasn't even much of a problem. One didn't use _sight_ to find grips. He simply took off his shoes to feel the wall with his feet. Thankfully, it hadn't rained.

Yet, the stone was slippery. He had maybe climbed down four feet when the crack he was leaning on gave way. He muffled a gasp and had the fortunate reflex to push himself from the wall to twist his body into a somersault, landing heavily but safely on the ground.

Oh, god. Alright, that one had been close. No more climbing at night. Or at least on another day; one really shouldn't risk his life more than once every 24 hours or so.

He gladly put back on both his shoes and socks. November was _chilly_. Now, the next step: the sisters kept a few old bikes in a shed at the end of the park. It wasn't closed.

Getting out from the gate without being caught was trickier than just jumping over the wall would have been, but he needed the wheels to reach the mansion before everything was over.

Once finally he found himself ready, with all his stuff, on his bike, safely two streets away from the orphanage, he nodded at himself. So. Where exactly _was_ this mansion?

sososo

Dick was mostly sure there weren't any mansion on the docks. Yep. Positive. So the reason why he found himself there was an absolute wonder.

His sense of directly wasn't usually _that_ bad but Batman had been right last time: he didn't have enough information. He didn't know anything about the city and obviously, there was more than one ' _Obrien Street_ '. Also, the fact that his phone had decided to shut down ten minutes before didn't help. Who knew, maybe this actually was a shortcut through uptown. There were docks about _everywhere_ in this damn city!

He should have checked his phone's battery before going. He should have thought things through. He should… go back to the orphanage and hope no one would have noticed he was ever gone.

With a sigh, he turned his bike around. And blinked. There were lights moving around the corner. No – the light wasn't moving. The _shadows_ were. As if… something was on fire?

He looked up. _Oh shit_. Even against the dark sky he could make out the big, puffy cloud of smoke going up. There _was_ something on fire!

He rode toward it as quickly as possible, checking the name of the street at the corner; it _was_ Obrien. And now that there wasn't a line of building blocking his view he could see the big warehouse burning – and smell it, too, despite the wind blowing on the other side. Fire was already licking its way out of the first floor's window. Thankfully, this didn't look like a place anyone would be in at this hour.

… Or was this a voice?

He abandoned his bike against a wall to get closer, protecting his face with his arm. The muffled sound echoed again and, yes, there was someone inside! He didn't get the words' meaning but it was definitively a voice.

"Don't worry, I'm coming!" he shouted.

However, first things first. He reached for his phone but – right, no battery. He looked around, hoping hard. He had seen public phones several times in this city. Maybe even here… Yes! He ran to the blue plastic case he spotted from afar, wishing for the old phone inside to still work. He found a few coins in his jacket's pocket and dialed Jim's number. He had his card in his bag but didn't even need to read it; without realizing, he had memorized the number by heart.

"Gordon. This better be an emergency."

"Jim? I mean, detective? This is Dick, Dick Grayson, I mean… I'm at the docks, and there's a building burning."

"What? What the hell are you doing… _Where_ at the docks?"

"Right next to Obrien Street."

"I _am_ at… Oh, right, the docks, so it's Obrien, not O'Brian."

So _this_ was how it was spelled! Dick was very tempted to curse. However, if he'd gotten it right, he wouldn't have stumbled upon the fire.

There were more pressing things at hands anyway.

"Yes! And I think there's someone inside. Please, come quickly!"

Jim swore under his breath, then called someone. He exchanged a few words too far from the receiver for Dick to hear.

"Dick, listen to me. We're heading there. Do _not_ try to get inside by yourself, to you hear me?"

"But you won't get here in time!" Dick protested.

" _Do not_. I'm sending the fire brigade. Do you understand?"

Dick swallowed.

"Alright."

"Good. I'm coming."

The detective hung up. Dick went back to the warehouse. It was far enough from the other buildings not to fear for the fire to spread. The wind wasn't blowing hard, either. However, despite the everlasting clouds, there was no sign of rain.

Nothing was going to stop the warehouse from burning down. Or worse: considering how things were going, it would collapse well before the blaze reached the roof.

A shriek pierced the night, clear and loud this time. Dick flinched. This was a _woman!_

He stared desperately at the warehouse entrance. Everything was burning. There wasn't anyone else around. Jim had told him to stay outside, to wait for professional help. Batman had told him to stay out of trouble

Actually no, he hadn't.

He'd told him not to put people in danger without knowing the risks. Not to do wrong things for the sake of it.

Here, there wasn't anyone to hurt. Only people to _save_.

' _But there was no one around to get hurt, except for them!_ '

' _And yourself._ '

' _Alright, and myself. I was ready to take that risk._ '

Dick was still ready to put his life at risk, as long as he could help those people inside.

People who would get hurt if Dick _didn't_ act.

Another shriek. Dick rushed to the entrance, pulling his sweater's red hoodie over his head. He wasn't wearing his scarf so he tied Bruce's black handkerchief on his mouth and nose to at least try to filter the fumes. In another life, the door had been locked, but not anymore.

Inside, everything was burning. Dick walked half-bent by reflex, orienting himself by the now regular sound of someone pleading. Thankfully, there was only one big room so he only had to avoid the burning beams and big piles of boxes containing whatever goods had been stocked here.

The fume hurt his eyes. He tried to rub them, but only managed to spread shoot all over his face. Damn, he'd have to buy himself another red sweater after this. If he was still alive to buy anything.

After one last turn around a pallet, he finally found them. The woman was sitting on the bare concrete, her back against a pole. The man had been left lying on the ground, his hands fastened behind his back. He had obviously been beaten and was barely conscious.

"Sir? Can you walk?"

The man couldn't even focus on him, even less answer. His face was vaguely familiar but the bruises and smoke make it hard to recognize it. Dick moved to the woman and paled. Her hands were tied too. With manacles. _Around the pole_. Getting her out was going to be tricky.

She interpreted correctly the face he was pulling.

"Please save him. _Please_. He's been hurt to help me."

Dick swallowed. She was trying to put on a brave face, but he could see she was scared.

Something crumbled on the far side of the building, making them both jump. Dick straightened. He had to do something or all three of them would die.

"I'll come back", he said. "Help is on its way."

He went to the man. He was way too tall for Dick to lift him so he grabbed his shoulders instead, dragging him toward the exit. Not ideal, but that would have to do.

Even so, he still had to use his whole body as a lever; this man was probably into sports. Dick gritted his teeth and kept going. The exit was right there. He could do this! Jim was on his way. And maybe Batman had managed to slip out with the police retreating. Please let him arrive soon. The Batmobile would arrive much quicker than any other car. He _had_ to come.

Then the man started to move.

"What…" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Not now! I'm getting you out."

"Where is…"

"I'll go back for her", promised Dick. "You first."

"No", the man protested, thrashing. "No!"

Dick barely managed to keep going, thanking his captors mentally for having tied his hands. The man was still not well enough to walk by himself but he would have been able to push Dick away, had he been able to use them.

"If you keep doing that, I won't have enough time!"

"No, I need… her. _Please_. Batman…"

"Batman will be there", Dick said, because what else could he have done? He sure hoped it was true. "I promise. He's on his way."

Something snapped over their heads; Dick had barely the time to think, rolling away and dragging the man with him. But he was still struggling, screaming. The burning beam fell right on his face. He stopped moving.

Panicking, Dick tried using his bare hands to move it away, but it was way too heavy. It was also _burning_. On the man's _face_. God. _God._

He took a deep breath and looked around. Nothing, nothing that could help at all… Until his eyes caught a metallic reflection. He ran at it – and his stomach turned. The iron bar was tainted of blood.

There was no time to hesitate, though, not if the tool used to beam him could save that man. Dick grabbed it with both hands and ran back. Quickly, he used it as a lever to get the beam off him. By a stroke of luck the man was still breathing, his head more damaged by the fire than by the shock – but his face had been badly burned.

Dick managed to drag him on the last few feet, then away from the building. The fire was blazing up and up, the ceiling creaking and moaning.

Dick swallowed, steeling himself. He might not manage to get out in time. But the woman was still there…

He was about to go back in when he heard the sirens. His heart jumped. Finally! Less than a minute later, cars started to park all around the place. Jim got out of the first one, heading for Dick right away.

"Son? Is that you?"

Dick removed the handkerchief from his face, waving at the resting form on the ground.

"Yeah. I got him out but there's still someone inside! There were two of them, but…"

"I'd told you not to go in!" Jim cursed, but he looked more relieved than angry.

"The woman…"

"The fire brigade will be there in a minu…"

A shriek interrupted the detective: the metallic structure of the roof was moaning. Then it just started bending, dragged down by its own weight, weakened by the heat. Dick ran forward, but Jim caught him in time.

"Stop! It's too late."

"But the woman…!"

"It's too _late_ , son, the building is lost. You can't do anything now."

Dick shook his head, tensed, all his being protesting against this fate. He had been talking to her only a minute ago. He had _promised!_ Tears blurred his sight. She had been right there. And now it was too late.

"Gordon!" someone called. "That's _Harvey Dent_."

Jim released his grip on Dick out of surprise.

" _What?_ But he wasn't missing!"

"Apparently, he had been", was the retort.

Dick paled. Harvey Dent? So the woman had to have been his fiancée, Gilda Gold, the one who had gone missing a week ago. He had found her. He had tried to _save_ her. Dick lowered his head. At his feet, the shadows were still dancing.

The blaze kept burning, long after the fire truck arrived.

sososo

Bruce Wayne entered the hall of the police station, looking distraught, his clothes crumpled as if he had tried to sleep in them or put them on in a hurry. He headed for the reception desk where a tired woman suddenly remembered she had ovaries and blushed.

"Jim Gordon?" Bruce asked. "He worked on Harvey Dent's case, I think? I heard he was on site, when… I heard a _child_ saved Harvey?"

"Oh, Mr Wayne, yes, that's such a tragic story!" the secretary sympathized. "Such a beautiful young woman, they were quite the couple! And I heard he is at the hospital? Did you see him yet?"

Bruce managed to summon a weary smile.

"He's still in surgery, which is why I came here."

"It's his face, I heard? I mean, not that I trust the media much…"

"It is", Bruce confirmed. "Could you please call Jim Gordon? Or is he at his desk?"

She batted her eyelashes at him, oblivious of the dramatic circumstances.

"Oh, he's talking to the captain right now, but I'm sure he'll hear you as soon as he's done!"

"Thank you."

Bruce was retreating; she acted fast, leaning toward him with a scheming look.

"And the poor kid", she whispered out loud. "He looks like a good boy but he ran away, not for the first time. Can you imagine? At his age… He'll never find a family to adopt him!"

She waved her chin at Dick, full of hidden meaning, managing not to take her eyes away from Bruce even for a second. Bruce glanced over there by reflex – then froze. Dick looked down, ashamed. He had let Gilda _die_.

"Dick!" Bruce exclaimed, astonished. "That was _you?_ "

"I'm _sorry_ ", Dick mumbled.

There was a silence, as if Bruce was blinking. Dick looked up. He _was_ blinking.

"Why are you apologizing?" the adult wondered. "I should _thank_ you. You saved Harvey. That only is exceptional, considering the circumstances."

"But I didn't save his fiancée. I promised I would…"

"Hush", Bruce interrupted. "You can't promise to make miracles. Only to _try_." He smiled. He had a nice smile. "And you did try."

Dick nodded. He felt… exhausted – and _thankful_ to hear he wasn't to blame. He had known, intellectually, that what happened hadn't been his fault. He hadn't kidnapped Gilda, nor tied her to a pole, nor set anything on fire. But still. He should have been able to do something. He couldn't stand the idea to have – not to have been able to grab his mother's wrist as she fell.

Dick swallowed. The now familiar hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Hah, I won't be able to give you back your handkerchief", Dick announced, getting the shredded piece of cloth out of his pocket. "I'm afraid it's beyond repair."

"It looks like it's been even more useful than intended", Bruce commented.

Dick swallowed again, nodding. Then he breathed out, got up, and hugged the man, gripping his coat as if his life depended on it. For a few seconds, he felt Bruce tense, but the man quickly relaxed and soon two strong arms closed around him.

"Everything is alright", Bruce said at his ear. "I've got you."

Dick buried himself in his warmth, his strength, savoring the softness of his clothes' expensive fabric. He still smelled of the same cologne, fresh as morning.

They just stood like that for a while, silently, present for each other. The secretary didn't dare to interrupt. Except for them, the hall was empty.

In the end, they stayed like that until Dick heard Jim's familiar pace approaching. He expected Bruce to let go, but he didn't; he probably was looking to the detective over Dick's head.

"Can I come back tomorrow to talk?" Bruce asked, instead of news from the case or about Dent or Jim or whatever reason he had been coming to the precinct in the first place.

"Of course", Jim answered. "I'll have to be there for the day shift as well, considering. 10AM?"

"Make it 11. It's been a long night."

Dick stepped back. He would have kept enjoying the warmth but he hated people to converse _literally_ over his head. Jim was observing them. He certainly must have a good poker face, Dick decided.

"I can call St Rita's", the detective said.

Dick cringed. The place was _nice_. The sisters were adorable. He was going to be in so much trouble for running away – and for the second time, too. The secretary had been right. Not that Dick wanted a family. His parents might have died but he had had parents. No one would replace them.

Bruce's hand found its place back on his shoulder.

"Dick. Can I… Can I offer you to stay at my place tonight? You need to rest."

Dick blinked. Bruce looked serious. At his place? The hand was still on his shoulder, reassuring. The idea felt… _safe_.

"But… After what happened…" Dick still protested.

"You need to rest", Bruce repeated.

Dick bit his lip, then noticed tension in the man's shoulders. He wasn't only serious: he was anxious, hoping Dick would agree.

The teenager turned to Jim.

"May I?" _Please?_

"Like I said", the detective agreed. "I can call them."

Ten minutes later, they were at the back of Bruce's Lamborghini, his chauffeur driving them to his home. This car purred too, but the sound was muffled, making it sound more like a cat's purr than a panther's. Outside of the windows, the light of the city were blurring.

Dick let his head rest against Bruce's shoulder. He wondered what his home looked like. How it smelled. Was there a garden?

He'd have to wait for the next day to find out: when they arrived, he was asleep.

sososo

"… should be alright… very lucky… half his face… Nothing a good surgeon can't fix."

Harvey blinked, then moaned. His face _hurt_. Everything hurt. He couldn't see from his left eye.

A nurse appeared in his line of sight.

"Mr Dent? Doctor, he's awake!" she called, before turning back to him. "Mr Dent, don't worry, you're at the hospital."

He tried to talk. His throat hurt, too, it was so hoarse.

"Don't try to talk", the doctor stopped him, pointing a blinding light pen at his eye. "You have inhaled too much smoke."

Harvey kept trying. He needed to know… Had Batman arrived? That kid, who worked with him, had he kept his promise?

"He has to calm down. Give him 5mg of diazepam", the doctor ordered.

Harvey panicked, willing his throat to work.

"… ilda", he managed.

The nurse paled.

"He's asking for…"

"Obviously. Don't tell him anything. We need him to calm down."

"But…"

Harvey fought against the sedative but he could feel it pulling his awareness away. Gilda! Gilda… _It was all that kid's fault_.

sososo

 _Notes:_ _Dick is at the manor! - and Harvey Dent is on his way to becoming Two Face._

 _The chauffeur, of course, is Alfred, in case anyone wondered._

 _I hope you like the fic so far! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Wayne manor was _fantastic_. The first few nights, Dick had had a hard time falling asleep – the place was too big and his mattress too soft – then he had found out he could close the curtains around the bed which made his room feel so much smaller. Moreover, Bruce's room was right next door. The man checked on him every night before going to sleep.

Once that first impression had passed, Dick had discovered the banister. And the chandelier. Ah! The chandelier…

"Come back down this instant, Master Richard!" Alfred called. "For the sake of my heart if not for your young skull."

Dick loved that the old butler wouldn't mind saying stuff like that out loud despite his parents having died falling. He hadn't been afraid of heights before and didn't intend to be after, either.

"But it's comfortable up here! There isn't even dust. How do you keep it so spotless?"

"Since I lack your abilities, I fear I must content myself with using a ladder."

"You impress me every day, Alfred."

"I'll make sure to continue doing so. Now please do come down. Or should I tempt you with waffles?"

"Wouldn't a reward miss the point?"

"Would it get you down?"

Dick laughed. It definitively would. He gauged the height, prepared himself… and performed a somersault, perfect landing. He raised his arms to greet an invisible crowd.

To his surprise, applause echoed in the hall. Bruce was standing at the top of the stairs, clapping, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"I trust you acclaim my capacity at putting the young Sir back on a safe ground", Alfred commented before heading back to the kitchen. "Tea and waffles will be served in the library in twenty minutes."

Bruce joined Dick in the hall. Dick grinned at him.

"So, where's the library?"

"In the left wing. Over here."

What they called the library was actually a cozy little study, three walls of which were covered in books. The fourth was occupied by a big fireplace. Alfred had apparently anticipated to send them there because the fire was lit and the room warm.

Bruce went to sit on the armchair but Dick stopped him in time, dragging him on the couch instead.

"There!"

The man cast him a bemused look as Dick settled against him. The teenager grinned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Bruce took the newspaper which was waiting for him on the coffee table and split it in two.

"Do you want the last page?"

"Is it a crossword or a Sudoku today?"

"Crossword."

Dick made a face.

"No; we'll do that together later. You're better at it than I. Give me the front page."

Bruce complied. They both opened their half of them newspaper and started reading. Twenty minutes later, like clockwork, Alfred entered the room with the promised waffles and two cups of tea – one herbal for Bruce, one rooibos for Dick.

They were delicious. Well, Dick's was. He really didn't get what Bruce liked in his. It only tasted strongly of _tea_. _With subtle flavor_ , Bruce pretended.

Dick had been around for two weeks now. The first one had been entirely against the rules; the last one had been validated by the sisters since it was the autumn break. Two weeks – and they were starting to have their routines.

Bruce wasn't trying to replace his parents, at all. He was just… a friend. An older, responsible one. A… brother? Maybe? Someone who _understood_.

This was Saturday, though. Dick had no idea what would happen the day after tomorrow. Logically, he should be going back.

He didn't want to.

"Bruce", he started, startling the man out of his reading.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to ask…"

Dick didn't finish his sentence; Alfred had just appeared at the door, looking serious. Bruce turned to him.

"Is there a problem?"

"We just received a call from Detective Gordon, Master Richard", Alfred said, turning to the teenager instead of answering Bruce. "I think you might want to head for the GCPD. Zucco has just been arrested."

sososo

Rather than talking to them in the middle of the police station, Jim had led them to a separated office so they could have some privacy. Even Bullock stayed out of the room.

Dick felt both frightened and hopeful, his belly twisting in a knot. Bruce cleared his throat once they were properly seated, but instead of talking he looked at Dick, letting him get the lead of the conversation. Dick breathed in, then nodded at Jim.

"I thought there was no proof against him. Not that I'm mad at the change, but… What happened?"

"Note that I'm not supposed to let you know about the details of the investigation, son. I'm talking to you unofficially, so… Please do not spread word. This is confidential."

"I appreciate that you do at all", Dick answered. "I won't tell anyone."

Jim cast an inquisitive glance at Bruce who nodded. He wouldn't talk either.

Dick was actually surprised that Jim let Bruce stay. Not that he minded. Bruce presence made him feel less nervous. Jim was a good man but – well. He was doing his job. Bruce had helped Dick for no other reason that his empathy.

"We've had some help", Jim started. "The kind of help GCPD isn't supposed to accept."

"You mean Batman", Dick said, trying to keep awe from his voice.

That didn't seem to fool Jim whose mustache twitched.

"Yes, I do mean him. We found Zucco on the rooftop this morning."

Dick blinked at Jim. They had found him in the morning. Batman had brought him there. Which meant…

"He was a bit annoyed at having been left there for hours. He's lucky I went on the rooftop for a smoke before going back home."

Jim did look tired, Dick noted. He was working double-shifts with everything going on. That was to say, Dick's parents' murder – because Dent's fiancée had now been found. Or were there so many other cases going on at the same time? There probably were, in a city like Gotham.

"We didn't call right away", Jim continued. "We had to go through the evidence first. It looks solid."

"But how?" Dick frowned. "He didn't leave anything behind, or you would have nailed him long ago."

"Indeed. Acid was used to burn the ropes, but that can be bought in a lot of different places so we couldn't track it back. Zucco wasn't there in person. Whoever he sent wasn't noticed. However, things evolved."

Jim came closer to Dick, sitting on the table next to him.

"You're a strong one so I'm telling you this, though I wouldn't usually give this kind of information to a kid. He was apparently preparing to kill you, as well, to prevent you from testifying."

Dick's eyes widened. Bruce's hand closed around his wrist, giving him strength. He swallowed.

"Shit. Sorry. I mean. Damn."

"Under the circumstances, I'll forgive the language. Actually, everything had been settled. It's lucky you were staying at Wayne Manor where security is much stronger than at St Rita's – not to criticize the sisters' work, but…"

"They aren't billionaires."

"Exactly. Considering the circumstances and you being well, this is actually good news. We have a recording of a phone call Zucco did to one of his men to take care of the details. Another gave Batman a written testimonial about Zucco swearing he'd take care of you." Jim raised his eyebrows. "I wonder why he was so set on going after you, actually. Even if you had testified, he had good chances to get away with it."

Dick didn't flinch, smiling instead of blushing.

"I wouldn't know, sir. I guess criminals like him don't sleep very well at night."

"They are a superstitious, cowardly lot", Bruce confirmed.

"I wish that was true", Jim commented. "That would make my work much easier."

Dick and Bruce smiled at him – Dick much more widely than the adult, but still. The knock in his stomach was loosening, leaving him bursting with relief. Jim shook his head.

"Anyway, there are good chances of him being condemned. I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible."

"Thank you, detective."

"It's my job, kid. I just wish I would have gotten him without external help. But – the most important is that he _has_ been caught."

Dick approved wholeheartedly. Bruce's eyes were sparkling with satisfaction.

"We have to celebrate. Why don't we go grab something instead of going back home? You wanted me to try… Burger Prince?"

"They're _delicious_ ", Dick confirmed.

They both stood, but Jim stopped Bruce as he was about to exit the room.

"May I just have a word?"

Bruce cast a questioning glance at Dick, who nodded and pretended to go away. The doors really weren't soundproof, in this building. The city of Gotham obviously didn't put a lot of budget in her police force.

"You look well, lately", Jim was pointing out. "Much better than usual."

"I don't see what you mean."

Jim snorted.

"Of course you don't. Children do that to you, though. Myself, when Babs arrived… It reminds you what life is all about. Why we do what we do."

There was a silence. Dick guessed they were staring at each other, exchanging those meaningful looks. Both men were prone to wordless communication. Alfred was much better at voicing his thoughts, though he usually used sarcasm. Dick loved it.

His heart was beating fast as he waited for Bruce's reply.

"I'm not exactly good at this", the billionaire finally declared. "I'm not suited to the role."

"Dick is an intelligent child. Trust me; those might be the most difficult to raise but it's totally worth it. He doesn't need you to parent him, but to guide him. You're a good man, Bruce. You both deserve this."

"I wish I had your confidence."

"Just think about it."

Dick moved away from the door despite his curiosity. The conversation was about to end and he'd better be outside when Bruce exited the room. His heart was still pounding, now more from joy than from worry. Bruce liked him! Bruce though _he_ wasn't a good – a good guardian.

Dick would do his very best to convince him of the contrary. To convince Bruce to let him stay.

… Actually, using words might just work.

Rather than waiting for Bruce in front of the building, he stopped in the corridor. Bruce raised his eyebrows when he saw him but didn't comment. They walked together toward the hall.

"So", Dick started. "You don't mind me being around?"

"I hope I didn't give you the impression I minded?"

"No, but, you know. One might not be bothered for a few days, when one knows the disturbance is going to disappear."

Bruce stopped.

"Dick. You're not a _disturbance_. You would never be."

Hope could hurt as much as worry, Dick realized.

"Even if I happened to stay longer?"

"Even if", Bruce confirmed.

Dick refrained from tapping his foot with annoyance.

"Alright, I really do have to do everything myself, don't I?" He put a knee on the ground, because he could. "Bruce. Would you allow me to stay at the manor?"

"Please, get back on your feet", Bruce begged. He totally was blushing, even if it didn't show. "And I have one condition."

Dick straightened.

"I'm listening?"

Bruce smiled.

"Don't stay ' _the manor_ '. Say ' _home'_."

Dick jumped at his neck, hugging him fiercely, not caring about people watching. Bruce's arms closed around him, and it felt right, it felt safe, and now he would get this as often as he wanted. He'd just have to bully Bruce into hugging him because the man couldn't get a hint if it didn't slap him in the face.

"Alright", Dick said. "Let's go _home_."

sososo

It felt weird to know Zucco had been arrested and was on his way to a lifetime in prison. Dick hadn't realized how much the idea of stopping this man had weighted on his thoughts. He had known there was nothing he could do. Yet, his brain had tried to come up with schemes and ideas. Now, it was all gone, leaving room for grief, emptiness – and the return of his ability to observe people around him.

Bruce was always tired. He went to bed early, which Dick knew because he always checked on him before going, and rarely got up before noon. Despite this, he looked tired. Worse: sometimes, his stance changed subtly as if he was hurt. It never lasted for long and, honestly, Dick doubted anyone else noticed.

Except Alfred, of course. Alfred noticed everything. The fact that he didn't comment on it was a clue in itself. Dick was horribly anxious.

So he decided to be the grown man and to use words to ask if there was a problem he should know about. He _was_ scared, though, so instead of going to Bruce, he asked Alfred.

"Is Bruce sick?"

The butler put the cutlery he was polishing back into its case and looked up at Dick.

"Why would you get such an idea?"

Dick fidgeted, too nervous to hide it.

"Because he's always so tired. Exhausted, even. As if he doesn't sleep at all, while I know he does."

"Don't worry, Master Richard. Bruce isn't hiding any other medical condition than his own stubbornness."

Suddenly, Dick could breathe again. Alfred would never lie on something like that, even if Bruce had told him to do so.

Bruce wasn't sick. He really wasn't.

Dick hadn't _believed_ Bruce would take him in if he actually had been that sick but… Dick couldn't have handled it if Bruce had been. He just… couldn't have.

"Thank you, Alfred."

"At your service, young sir."

Dick grinned at him and headed back to the gardens where he'd be able to run a bit and think. Because Bruce might not be sick but he was still _hiding_ something. What could that possibly be?

Well, if he appeared to be so tired despite a lot of rest, and it wasn't because of some kind of disease, the next logical explanation was quite simple. He obviously didn't sleep as much as he pretended to.

Dick whistled while thinking, good humored. Now here was what he was going to plan next…

sososo

Trailing Bruce wasn't hard. Doing so without getting noticed – much more so. Dick wasn't used to creaking parquet floor or echoing corridors. He had to stay at least two turns away from Bruce and just follow him by listening to the noise he made.

The four previous nights, Dick had stayed in his room, merely checking if no car left the manor. None did and yet Bruce's behavior didn't improve. So he did whatever he was doing inside the manor. Which was why Dick had decided to trail him.

However, this wasn't going as planned. Bruce seemed to head for the library, which wasn't exactly anything exciting. Did Bruce spend his nights working? Maybe he was just insomniac? No, Alfred had said he wasn't sick, and insomnia definitely qualified as a disease.

Dick got closer, careful not to make any noise. The door was half opened. Maybe if he was quick… He cast a glance inside – and gaped.

The room was empty.

Wait. Wait… Was Bruce hiding in a corner? Maybe he had realized Dick was following him? Dick stood in the corridor, waiting. And waiting. After ten solid minutes, he decided Bruce wasn't playing a game on him and entered the room. It was, indeed, empty.

He checked the window. It was closed, from the inside. He checked the rest of the room but, no, Bruce wasn't hiding anywhere. Yet, Dick was absolutely positive he had been here and hadn't exited. At least, not through the door.

Which meant there was a _secret passage_ somewhere. Now this was exciting!

Dick started knocking softly on the walls to determine if one of them was hollow. Obviously, there wasn't any secret passage on the corridor side. He calculated the walls thickness. The right one was perfectly normal; the one opposed to the corridor was thicker but, with the fireplace opening on it, it wasn't surprising. The last one, though, the one on the right, didn't match the room configuration.

Dick grinned. Alright, so. It was covered in bookshelves, except for the section where an old clock seemed never to have moved since much older times. He checked the floor. There wasn't any trace of something heavy moving regularly on it, like a bookshelf opening. Maybe it opened on the other side? Finding a specific book to move was going to be tricky, though, especially since he had no idea of when Bruce would come back.

It was time for plan B.

Unfortunately, there weren't any cupboards in the library. There was however a wooden chest stuck in a corner, looking very decorative. Dick opened it. It was half empty, with only some yellowed papers at the bottom. Dick promptly got them out, hiding them underneath the couch. There.

The wood wasn't exactly comfortable, but Dick had hidden in worst places. He could almost lie down entirely. The hard part would be not to fall asleep – but that was what smartphones were for, right? Dick opened Candy Crush, making sure to switch off the sound, and started waiting.

Four hours later, he was starting to get both bored and sleepy, despite all the games he had tried. The chest was too cramped for him to read a book. His eyes were really starting to close. He hoped Bruce would be back soon. He hoped…

A mechanic sound woke him up. It was a very soft _click_ , followed by the sound of a well-oiled door opening. Dick opened the chest just a little bit to glimpse at the room. Bruce was there, thankfully looking toward the door. He was coming out of a secret passage – there really was one! – and it was hidden behind the _clock_. It was a good thing Dick hadn't started poking at all the books, then.

He waited for Bruce to get out of the room and for the sound of his steps to fade away. Then he counted ten more minutes before finally unfolding himself. _God_. Never again. Never. Again. His neck hurt. His shoulders. His everywhere.

But it had been worth it. He went to the clock, observing it. He felt its shape with his fingers. There was no hidden button, no weird irregularity on its frame.

Then his eyes stopped on the clock's hands – and knew. He knew what he would have used to open the secret passage, the exact hour, the exact minute. _Time of death, 9:29_. That was for his parents, though. He had no idea at what time Bruce's had died. It had been in the evening, right?

Dick started at 9, because… That felt right. He silently moved the smaller hand round the clock until the big one moved to 10, and kept going. A little before making a full round again, he felt a small movement in the mechanism. He took a step back. The clock showed 10:47.

And it was dissociating from the wall, revealing the opening Bruce had come out from. It was pitch black on the other side, but Dick wasn't afraid. He went in, leaving the entrance slightly ajar to be able to get out, and used his phone to light the corridor. It had been excavated but human work had only widened a natural passageway.

Stairs had been carved in the rock. Dick followed them down, each of his step echoing in the unknown. When he reached the bottom, he was pretty sure he was in a much larger cave, some kind of room. There was furniture – there was a _gigantic computer_. And some kind of playing card hanging from the ceiling, so white against the darkness of the cave.

And a case. With some kind of modern armor inside. With a big, black bat spreading its wings on its chest.

This was Batman's suit. Batman's cave. Oh my God. _Bruce was Batman_.

Dick muffled the squealing sound that his throat insisted to produce. And refrained from jumping up and down like a silly little girl. Then he decided finding out _Bruce was Batman, he was totally Batman, how cool was that?_ was totally worth it and proceeded to bounce around for five good minutes.

Alright, now that the bat was out of the bag – Dick giggled – it was time to confront Bruce. Dramatically. He was a performer, wasn't he? He was going to wait for nightfall on the next day, for Bruce to change into his suit and go do what he did, and Dick would wait for him right here. _Yeah_. Totally.

sososo

He absolutely couldn't wait until nightfall.

This was Saturday, which meant Dick had gotten up a bit later, made a run around the park, then came back in for breakfast around 10, and _Bruce had been there_. It happened sometimes, especially during week-ends. It was sweet to see him try to spend more time with Dick, especially now that he knew why Bruce was so busy all the time.

Dick concentrated on his cereal, not looking up. If he looked up he would see Bruce, and he would squeal, and lose all his dignity.

Still. He couldn't wait until nightfall to tell him he _knew_. He couldn't wait for another _minute_.

"Dick."

The teenager jumped – and made a mistake, looking up reflexively. Bruce was staring at him.

"Boy. What happened? You seem…" Guilty? Creepy? "Distraught."

"No! I'm fine. Everything is fantastic."

Darn. Why did he say that? That would sound even more suspicious!

"Fantastic."

"Absolutely."

"Absolutely fantastic."

"Yes."

Bruce studied him. Dick smiled innocently. He waited for the older man to put his cup of coffee down. Then, at the exact second Bruce was going to talk, he asked:

"So, how did you come up with the name?"

Bruce blinked.

"The name?"

" _Batman_. It's original. I like it."

Bruce gaped. It was kind of funny – but a bit alarming, too. Dick cleared his throat.

"I want to help."

"No."

Bruce's tone was final. Considering the face he was making, the rebuttal had come out reflexively, without him realizing it meant admitting Dick had been right. Not that Dick had any doubt left, but Bruce didn't know that.

"You can't stop me", Dick pointed out cheekily.

"Yes, I can."

"What are you going to do, send me back to the orphanage?" Dick blurted out, too nervous not to go straight to the point.

Bruce merely lifted his cup back to his lips to take a sip.

"I said no and that's final."

A big grin spread on Dick's face. He knew he had to look stupid and absolutely didn't care.

"Does that mean I'm staying?"

Bruce frowned.

"I told you to consider this place your home, Dick. It wasn't so I could take it back at my first convenience. And, actually…"

Alfred appeared in the dining room's doorframe. Bruce interrupted whatever he was going to say to turn to him, frowning. It was impressive how he'd managed to teach everyone around him to read his expression, Dick noted. Both Jim and Alfred didn't seem to need words to get what he wanted.

"I'm truly sorry to interrupt, Master Bruce, but there are news from West Mercy."

Both Bruce and Dick tensed; it was the hospital where Harvey Dent was recovering from his burns. Dick hadn't dared to go in person but he knew Bruce had visited regularly.

"Maybe we should leave the details for later", Alfred tried.

"Do tell me", Bruce ordered, dismissing the butler careful caution.

"Very well. He has apparently woken up."

"Apparently?"

"Yes. He has gone missing. Cameras caught him walking out of the hospital by himself."

It was Dick's turn to gape. Bruce's face was unreadable, hard as stone. He rose, leaving there his unfinished breakfast. Before going, he stopped next to Dick.

"We will talk about this later."

Then, without adding another word, he left the room.

sososo

 _Notes:_ _Finally! Dick knows :)_

 _Well, yes, Bruce might be good at hiding it but when you're actually living with the guy, it must be possible to spot it._

 _I had a lot of fun writing Dick following him around; I hope you enjoyed the reading ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Note: There has been problem on ffnet which is now eating up review, so I couldn't answer them. Thank you all for your support! It means a lot to receive feedback :)_

 **Chapter 6**

Harvey Dent had disappeared from the hospital. Bruce was Batman and had gone after him, hoping to find him before trouble would. Dick had admitted he knew Bruce's secret identity but, considering what was going on, had been left alone at the manor with Alfred – and he _couldn't go after Bruce to help him because he was supposed to study_.

Life was so unfair.

More specifically, when it had been decided that he would be staying at the manor, Bruce had reviewed Dick's school results from the orphanage and had declared them insufficient.

"I'm sure part of it is lack of attention", he had pointed out, "but you might also be a little behind. It happens, when one is home-schooled, especially while having a job such as you had at the circus. It would probably be good for you to have some tutoring before joining an actual school."

And, apparently, Bruce had been recommended someone. Not that Dick didn't want to meet gothamite teenagers outside the orphanage but right now? He would have given anything not to have an appointment for the whole day.

"She's here, Master Richard."

"Could you _please_ call me Dick, Alfred? It makes me feel like you're talking to someone else."

"I'll consider it", the butler promise, guiding him to the study.

Dick forced a smile out, pushing the door open.

There should have been violins. Wind blowing flower petals. A sunbeam casually landing on her cheek, making her hair glow in all their red glory. Maybe there _was_. Certainly a girl didn't look so nice just by herself. Even an older one; she had to be a year or so older than Dick.

His smile was entirely sincere when he held out his hand to her.

"Hello, I'm Dick! Nice to meet you."

She took it in a stronger grip than he'd expected, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Was she laughing at him? Or just glad to be there?

"Barbara, but everyone call me Babs. Dad told me you just arrived in Gotham and needed some help?"

Ouch. Dick winced apologetically.

"Hum, yes, I was home-schooled until recently. When I started following courses in an actual school, I realized I wasn't as good as I thought in History and Biology. I'm doing mostly fine in the other classes, though."

"I'll be the judge of that", she said, moderating her words with a mischievous grin.

She had _freckles_. Dick had never realized he liked freckles.

"Let's start with the easier parts, then", she proposed, waving at him to invite him to sit down on the chair next to her. "Tell me what you're on in the other classes. Math, for example?"

Dick got his books out and sat. Their elbow brushed each other's'. He blushed – _darn_. He usually wasn't into embarrassment! He cleared his throat, summoned his natural cheekiness, and grinned at her.

"Alright. So, we're covering algebra…"

As he explained what cases of second grade equations he had been studying during the week, their heads got closer. His grin widened. Life wasn't only about being on a mission, oh no it wasn't!

sososo

The day had been much less boring than anticipated. I addition to be extraordinarily cute, Babs was a good tutor. And they had had French toast at lunch, which always was brilliant, then waffles with their tea at 4.

However, once Babs gone, Dick had rushed for the library and activated the clock's mechanism. This time, he had taken the time to look for a switch, which he had found easily at the left of the hidden door. Bruce was gone, the car slot empty. Not that it was the only car. There were _four_ of them.

The cave was even more awesome when one could properly see it. Not only because of the toys – though the cars and computers sure were amazing – but also because of the training equipment. Alas, no trapeze, but asymmetric bars, rings, pommel horse, _everything_. Dick had to fight the urge to check all the tools to head for the computer instead. He wasn't there to play around. Not this time anyway.

The computer was on. It looked like the car's interface so Dick guessed they were connected. The poked at the system; it was clearly tailor-made, possibly not even based on an existing OS. _Wow_. It did use the same commands than most, though, so Dick could navigate through it easily enough.

"What are you doing there?" a hoarse voice suddenly asked from the monitor.

A window popped over the others, showing statistics and the users' identification, in case one didn't recognize Batman's tone.

Dick settled on the desk chair. It was wide enough for him to sit cross-legged, its black leather comfortably soft.

"What are you doing in the batcave?" Batman repeated, harder.

Dick beamed at the screen.

"It's called the _Batcave_? So. Cool. So the car _is_ called the Batmobile!"

"No."

"And I'm working on a Batcomputer", Dick kept marveling, though he knew Bruce probably only called the place the batcave because it was a cave full of bats.

" _D_."

Bruce had gone from harsh to I'm-pretending-to-be-annoyed-yet-I'm-amused. Victory! Dick refrained from grinning, just in case he could see him.

"Why are you calling me D.?" he enquired instead.

"Even with a secure line, no real names are to be used in the field."

"It makes sense", Dick approved. "Then you should call me Robin. It's much cooler – _and_ my actual nickname."

"That's not the _point_. Besides, if people know about it, we shouldn't use it. _Even_ if people _don't know_ about it, this is not…"

"No one knows about it anymore", Dick interrupted, before frowning at a blinking warning which appeared on the screen. "Hey, B., there is a warning from the GCPD at…" He clicked on the pop-up to get more information. "The Bowery, between Prince and St Thomas. Shouldn't you check it out?"

Silence fell, stretched, and sighed.

"We are going to talk about this", Bruce declared.

Then Dick heard the Batmobile's engine roar. This time, he did grin, and kept doing so for quite some time.

sososo

They didn't talk about it. Dick had made sure to exit the Batcave before Bruce came back and pretended to sleep when he checked on him. The man hadn't said a word though he had probably known Dick was only pretending. To be fair, despite the adrenaline, Dick had actually fallen asleep less than a minute after Bruce had closed his bedroom's door.

In the morning, he had woken up early and promptly jumped into his sweatpants to go for a run. Around the forest surrounding the manor – Bruce would have found him if he'd stuck to the park.

Afterward, he'd decided to stay outside to enjoy the sunny weather, which was ten good degrees above season's average. To say October had been so freezing!

At midday, he started to feel hungry. Rather than slipping inside – though he was perfectly able to do so undetected – he preferred to wave at Alfred, who was in the kitchen.

The old man opened the window.

"How may I help you, young sir? Should I warn Master Bruce you'll finally join him after a quick shower?"

"Aw, Alfred, don't do this. I know you know everything. You would make a fortune by making it a show. Have you ever thought about it?"

Alfred didn't take offense at being compared to an entertainer, despite all his British posh-iness. Dick liked him. A lot.

"Actually, I did enjoy some theatre lessons back in the days. In London. It was most pleasant."

Dick grinned.

"You must have been quite the rascal when you were my age."

Once again, Alfred didn't as much as blink.

"I don't see why you might think so."

Dick chuckled.

"Anyway. Would you be so kind as to give me something to eat and maybe some water?"

Alfred didn't have a twitching moustache. His sense of amusement was much more subtle, yet discernible to Dick's eyes.

"For some reason, I thought that you might want to eat outside today. All the hard studying from yesterday, certainly. Are chicken-and-salad sandwiches acceptable?"

Dick would have hugged him.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Alfred!"

The butler frowned at him.

"I do hope you intend to shower before eating anything."

"I'll make a detour by my room", Dick promised.

Alfred gave him the sandwiches and a bottle of water nicely packed in a backpack so he could climb on the tree to reach his window. This man was just faultless.

Dick showered, changed, then went back on the biggest branch to eat outside.

For the afternoon, instead of running away, he used subtlety. He stayed in the library. The quiet was nice after the morning's physical activity and there were more than enough books for him to find something interesting.

He was enjoying the second volume of _Taï-Pan_ when the door opened at last. Bruce did-not-react when he noticed Dick on the couch, which was vastly different than not reacting.

This was, however, their place. Their moment. Bruce pursed his lips, maybe hesitating. Then he gave up and took the newspaper, splitting it in two and silently handing the end to Dick. It was a Sudoku day.

Dick put his book away, grabbing a pen to solve the puzzle. None of them said a word, even when Alfred came in to serve their teas. Dick did glance over the pages, just in time to see the butler wink at him.

He grinned, not commenting. He was mostly sure Alfred would have denied any recognition of this gesture anyway.

Bruce had a business dinner – yes, on a _Sunday_ – so he had to leave the room to get changed. That gave Dick the whole evening to himself. For some reason, he didn't feel like going to the Batcave before nightfall so he joined Alfred in the kitchen to make some cake for the next day. It was kind of fun.

He was still glad to see the sun go down early. As soon as the last traces of red disappeared from the sky, he – well, he helped Alfred with the dishes, because one had to clean up after baking – then he rushed back to the library to put the clock's arms on 10:47.

Nothing happened.

Dick gaped. He recovered quickly, straightening. So, it was like that? He headed for his room to grab a flashlight.

sososo

It had taken him _three hours_ to find an alternative entrance to the Batcave, and he was never going to tell Bruce how he did it. Because Bruce would _strangle_ him if he ever knew. Dick might have risked his life for nothing once again. Well, he had had light this time? And he _was_ good at climbing. And he had even had a rope! So, there.

Anyway, he had found himself in the cave with a few scratches and ruined clothes, but all the dignity he hadn't lost was now back.

He wished he'd had the visuals when he mentioned to Bruce, through the com' link:

"There's another entrance to the left. You'd get there quicker."

There had been a soft _thump_ , as if _someone_ had tripped, but Bruce was far enough from the people he was spying on for it to matter. Dick had specifically waited for a good moment to talk, not to cause troubles.

Bruce had sighed – loudly – but had taken the entrance to the left. Dick couldn't see him but he'd found the feed video from his lenses so he could observe whatever Bruce was looking at.

"… three people, already. No one knows who!"

Which was, a group of mobsters smoking around a table, apparently. They didn't seem to be playing at anything, nor to be especially pleased to be there.

At least they weren't wearing pointy hats.

"It ought to be Bertinelli. Zucco is in jail and Maroni still didn't recover from last June."

Someone snorted.

"Or it could be the Penguin. Or the Ukrainians. We have no idea who, that's the problem!"

"They wouldn't dare", someone commented.

"Penguin would dare anything as long as it gets him money. Or just, you know, if he's pissed."

"We didn't do nothing to piss him off, lately. He and the boss are fine."

The taller one banged his first on the table. Dick realized a map of Gotham was spread on it, among other papers.

"Do you want to go to the boss to tell him ' _maybe Bertinelli_ ' offed one of his capi?"

No one dared to talk back. The man pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Let's go through this again. The left one, you said?"

"Yeah, each time. The first guy, Christ, it was like a butcher had gone at it. The guy must have fired at him post-mortem. The other two… Straight to the eye."

Big-guy stated pacing. No one said a word, but even through the lenses' camera it was clear they were thinking about something.

"Any news about Dent?" the man finally asked.

Dick quivered. Dent? Like in Harvey Dent, the attorney, Bruce's friend? What on Earth had he to do with any of this?

"None since he escaped from West Mercy."

"I want him found, do you hear me? He's going to be trouble. What did I tell you? When you want to kill someone, you don't just abandon people in burning warehouses! You do it _properly_."

Bruce took something from his utility belt and stuck it to the wall. When it activated, Dick saw a new feed added to a list on the left screen. It was a bug.

A _batbug_.

He kept that last comment for himself. Even to his hear, it wasn't funny, not after hearing this. They hadn't actually said it was Dent, though. It probably wasn't him. Was it?

Bruce followed one of the men when they dispersed. He didn't seem fazed by the fact he tailed on foot someone who was in a car. Worse, in a _cab_.

Then Dick saw how Bruce moved and his eyes widened. The man was using grapples to go around the city, going down, down, falling – then moving back up. Flying.

"It's amazing", Dick whispered, not caring about the com' link being open.

Bruce certainly knew how incredible this was. For a second, Dick wished he could be with him – not for the thrill, not to help people, not even to have his back. Just to… fly along with someone again.

Then he put those thought in a box and checked Bruce's route.

"Do you have files on those guys? I can look for his address. He might be going home."

"He is", Bruce confirmed.

"If he is just going in that general direction and turn left on Colgate Avenue, he'll get out of midtown and you'll lose him."

Dick had a point, he knew. He waited for Bruce to admit it, but the man stayed silent. Dick rolled his eyes.

"His _name_ , Bruce?"

"Mc Donalds."

Dick blinked.

"Seriously?"

"Originally, it _was_ a name. Two brothers starting out by selling hamburgers…"

"Yes, yes, I know, actually", Dick pointed out, typing in the research system. "First name?"

"Alexander."

Dick pointedly didn't comment. Bruce made a noise that might or might not have been a snort.

"His parents had high expectations. Like most parents."

"I guess you're right. Hah, I have his address. If I could just pin it on the map… Done!" Dick grinned at the screen, which was now showing Gotham along with three red dots: Mc Donalds, his apartment, and Batman. He blinked.

"You bugged him too?"

"Before you started spying on me", Bruce confirmed, stopping with the grapple to just use his cape to _dive_ over the city.

Dick didn't let himself be distracted by the awe.

"I'm not spying on you!" he protested. "Spying would be watching without letting you know."

"It's watching without giving me a choice."

"Nope, that would be _voyeurism_. Spying definitively has a secret aftertaste."

"Mh."

Bruce had stopped protesting, victory! Also, Mc Donalds wasn't taking Colgate Avenue. He was most probably heading for home as they'd assumed.

"He's going to be there in less than five minutes. Oh, wow, you have the building's _map_ on your computer?"

"It's owed by Wayne Enterprise", Bruce commented matter-of-factly.

Dick dissolved into laughter. One couldn't miss the irony of it all – nor Bruce's sarcasm.

"You own a _building_? Wait. Don't tell me. You own _several_ buildings. All over the city. Sometimes people don't even know they're yours."

"Hum."

Bruce was smug. He totally was. Dick sat back on the chair, smiling as he typed. The he frowned. There were cameras at the entrance of Mc Donalds' building and apparently, the Batcomputer could get their feed life, which was cool. However, Dick didn't like what he could see on it.

"Br– Batman, sorry, someone is waiting at the door. I mean, not exactly at the door, more like, on the other side of the street? He's wearing a hat. Honestly, what is it with this city and hats? Anyway, I can't see his face, but he's clearly keeping watch on the door."

"What do you mean?" Batman asked sharply – and, no mistakes, it was _Batman_ , not Bruce.

"I've only turned the feed on, so I might be wrong. But he's just standing there. Leaning against a car, actually, a blue Ford. He's holding a cigarette but he isn't smoking it. And he's glancing at the door for the fifth time in thirty seconds."

Batman's silence was worse than curses.

"Computer. Calculate the car's ETA if leaving now."

A new window opened on the right screen, the shortest itinerary from whatever dark alley the Batmobile was parked in to Batman.

"Three minutes forty-eight", Dick read out loud. "While your ETA to target is…"

"About four minutes. Car, activate itinerary."

Then the computer _talked_.

" _Itinerary activated_ ", it said in a female voice.

Dick gaped. The Batcomputer was talking. Worse.

"The Batcomputer is _female?_ " he whispered, not to disturb Bruce's concentration during a moment when time was of importance.

Considering the snort he heard in the com', he hadn't whispered low enough. It didn't seem to slow Bruce down, though, nor the Batmobile. The car had appeared on Dick's main map and was quickly reaching the dot marking Batman's position.

Dick hoped the IA was _really_ good because it was driving a vehicle in the middle of Gotham's midtown in the middle of the evening (let's not try to say that out loud three times). No traffic jam was to be expected at this hour but the streets would still be busy.

Mc Donalds' cab parked in front of his apartment's building. Dick tensed. Bruce would take at least one more minute to arrive, even with the help of the car. Maybe he'd make it in time…

The stalker drew a gun from his ample trench coat and fired at Mc Donalds, barely waiting for the cab to be out of the way. The taxi driver had to be a pure gothamite, because the shot made him accelerate. Mc Donalds fell on the ground, his hand reaching for his own gun. The aggressor fired again, getting closer, then just aimed for his left eye – and _bang_.

Dick forced himself not to look away, livid. The cab had disappeared from the street. Mc Donalds was dead.

Harvey Dent was smiling at the body, his disfigured face twisting it in a smirk. He put his gun away only to take something from his pocket. A lighter? No, something smaller, which Dent threw in the air to catch it with his other hand. He looked at it, then nodded, apparently satisfied by this little game. He went back to his Ford, started the engine, and left.

The whole scene had taken less than sixty seconds.

Dick swallowed.

"B. Batman. He's… dead. Harvey Dent just shot him."

The audio sensors were really sensitive – and the car obviously had a stealth mode – because Dick heard Bruce's breath stop for a second.

"Where did he go?" Batman asked, his voice cold enough to hide emotion.

"On the opposite way, I think, but I could only see the car's side, I didn't get a visual on the plate. It was blue, but at this hour of the night…"

I would be impossible to discern it from green, brown, or even red cars. They all looked dark grey. Dick opened the camera feed which had been recorded by the computer and tried watching it again to determine anything at all that would help Bruce to find Dent. But there was nothing. Just a blue car and a coin.

sososo

Dick stayed in the cave to wait for Bruce. Thankfully, the desk chair was comfortable, because he fell asleep in the middle of the night. He only waked up when Bruce lifted him.

"Shh", the man said when Dick tried to open his eyes.

He was really strong, Dick noted as his head nodded to settle against Bruce's shoulder. He was climbing the stairs with him in his arms as if he weighted nothing. His body hurt a bit from the cave's cold but he was quickly warming up. There was something heavy around his shoulders. It smelled like Bruce – not his cologne, something more personal.

They took two turns left, then one right, reaching the hall and its imposing double stairs. Bruce kept walking, carrying him to the first floor, west wing, into his room. He very gently put Dick down on the bed, taking away his coat or whatever he had used to replace it with actual blankets. He even took the time to remove Dick's shoes.

"M'awake."

"Hush. It's four in the morning, tomorrow is a school day."

Dick grumbled. He's stayed in the cave for something important. Thinking was hard so instead of concentrating enough to form words, he grabbed a piece of cloth so Bruce wouldn't leave. It was leathery. Was Bruce still wearing his suit?

Dick thoughts blurred with sleepiness. What did he want to say? Oh, right.

"C'me here."

"Dick. You need to sleep."

" _Here_."

Dick felt the mattress bend under Bruce's weight as he sat down to lean over him. Quick as light, Dick put both his arms around his neck and used his own weight – and gravity – to pull Bruce into a hug. Better.

"You're not alone", Dick declared. "You aren't", he added, because even half asleep he knew Bruce would typically deny it. "I promise."

His brain confusedly remembered he had a reason to tell him this. It was important. Bruce had lost someone. And Dick didn't want him to be sad.

He heard Bruce thanking him. He was almost sure he felt a kiss on his forehead. Then he went back to sleep.

sososo

The next day, the cave's clock mechanism was working again.

sososo

 _Note:_ _I just so love the image of little Dick covered in Batman's cape 3_

 _I hope you're still enjoying this ;)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Notes: Guest: thank you! I find Dick very cute too :)_

 _Now, the chapter!_

 **Chapter 7**

They settled into a routine. Bruce never admitted he was letting Dick help, always grumbling whenever Dick would turn on the com' link. Dick, in turn, avoided breaking the _status quo_ by only slipping into the cave when he knew Bruce had already left for patrol. He was getting the hang of the Batcomputer.

"Stop calling it that. It's a computer. It has nothing to do with a bat."

"I should ask Alfred for bat-stickers", Dick casually said. "I could put one on the top of the middle screen."

Bruce didn't comment. A horrible thought came to Dick.

"Alfred _knows_ , doesn't he? He knows _everything_."

"I certainly didn't know _you_ were involved in this, Master Richard."

Dick froze. Considering how the voice had felt near, Alfred was right behind his seat. Dick looked up. The butler didn't seem pleased.

"Well, to be fair, B. didn't exactly allow me to?"

"We made quite sure to lock the door", Alfred approved, confirming at the same time that he _had_ known Dick had found out.

No wonder Bruce was so secretive. Was it only in the Wayne family or in the whole Gotham that people avoided talking about anything like normal people? Babs had seemed able to use words for conversation the two times she'd been over. So had the kids at school. Maybe all hope wasn't lost.

Right now, though, Alfred didn't need any word to convey his feelings. Dick felt like that time his parents had found out he had been the one to paint Jack's caravan door pink. He had spent long hours sanding the door then painting it back in a more acceptable color.

"Hum, I'm good at finding ways in?"

"And at imposing yourself, I can see."

Dick knew the answer to that one. He grinned.

"At your service."

Bruce was staying conveniently silent since the butler's interruption. Coward. If Dick interpreted correctly the way Alfred glared at the screen, he was in for a talk when he would be back.

"So, err", Dick started, hoping his voice didn't sound too nervous. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Apart from avoiding worrying me by suddenly disappearing from the manor's grounds, you mean?"

Dick blushed. He hadn't thought about Alfred's feelings. He hadn't even imagined Alfred would notice he wasn't around – which meant he was stupid, because Alfred noticed _everything_.

"I promise I'll warn you next time I come down here", Dick swore.

It wasn't exactly what the butler had asked, but then, someone _had_ to teach those people to use words to convey their feelings, right?

"I hope you will", Alfred commented. "Very well. I was looking for you to deliver a message from Miss Gordon."

Dick froze. Alfred was very good at not looking smug. Dick swallowed.

"She called?"

"To ask if it was possible for her to have your weekly meeting today rather than tomorrow. You will have less time but some kind of party is being organized for her father's birthday, I think?"

Dick paled. _Today?_ But it was already 8PM! Which meant she would be arriving _now_.

"She should be there in a minute or so", Alfred confirmed, and that was just unfair.

Dick turned to the Batcomputer, not knowing what to do. Bruce intervened to save him from his dilemma.

"Your studies are more important than anything else. Go back upstairs."

"Yes, sir!" Dick exclaimed, already on his feet and running.

He didn't want to stay around to hear the conversation they were going to have. Knowing Alfred, he wasn't going to wait for Bruce to be back. Instead, he would make a point of having it in the com' – when Bruce couldn't run away.

sososo

The advantage of the bag having been ripped by a cloud of bats was that Dick could now go to the cave whenever he liked. Bruce wasn't protesting too much, though he pursed his lips at him when he thought Dick wasn't looking. Alfred prepared simple cheese sandwiches for lunch five days straight – but he couldn't bring himself to cook something bad. Cheese sandwiches were perfectly fine.

They certainly didn't weight a lot against the _gym_. Batgym? No, that sounded weird. It was part of the Batcave anyway.

Dick was trying to get how to work with the pommel horse. There had been one at the circus but he didn't use if for training, sticking to the rings. His dad had promised to show him sometimes now that Dick was old enough to build muscle but, well. It wasn't as easy as his dad had made it seem.

Alright, maybe Dick didn't have the upper body strength for it, either. But if he didn't work on it, it would never build, so.

"Use your balance more."

Thankfully, the pommel horse was on a floor mat. Also, Dick has good reflexes. He might have been startled enough to fall, but he protected his face with his arms and rolled away from the tool gracefully instead of just collapsing on the ground like a pancake.

He glared at Bruce.

"Could you please _not_ do that to me?"

The man had the most cat-like pace humanly possible when he wanted to. Dick suspected that it actually was his default and had to force himself to produce some noise the rest of the time. Still.

Bruce was laughing with his eyes. Dick went back on his feet.

"Care to show me, then?"

Dick expected him to shake his head and go for the computer or whatever else he'd come to do in the cave in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, but Bruce did join him.

"Get back on."

Only then Dick noticed Bruce was wearing sweatpants. He had probably come to train. Dick felt a bit ashamed; he didn't want to take time from Bruce's training, not when it was so crucial to his survival. Dick could do without.

"Why don't you show me instead?" he asked innocently.

Bruce blinked at him, surprised, but complied. He easily lifted himself on the pommel and made a few moves, warming up his muscles while explaining how to make the movements right. Dick observed carefully, while stretching his arms and wrist.

"Come on", Bruce invited him. "Your turn."

Dick put some talc on his hands and started the routine from its beginning. He wanted to go slowly, not to make any mistakes, but that made his muscles work even harder. Trying not to pant, he finished the first part. Bruce nodded.

"Don't rely on your muscles only. You know they aren't strong enough yet. Use the movements speed."

"I'm going to mix it up if I go quicker", Dick protested.

"I trust your coordination."

Dick made a disapproving noise at the back of his throat but, once his arms rested a bit, he went back on, going through the moves quicker. It _was_ easier – but it was also too soon. After a few rotations, he got his left hand on the bad side of the right one and was only saved by his quick reflexes. That's to say – he rolled again not to have his face meet the mat.

"Again", Bruce said.

He made Dick go through the whole routine twenty-three times, until Dick got it right. By then, his arms were sore, not used to those movements. However, Bruce smiled when Dick slid down the pommel, making it all worth it.

Which wasn't to say Dick didn't want some revenge.

"How do you do on the rings?" he challenged.

Bruce had been warming up while coaching him so he was ready for the show. And it was quite something, actually; the man seemed to be good at everything he did. Dick was too awed to criticize, even though he did spot some mistakes – the point wasn't to be stage perfect, here.

"Any comment?" Bruce asked nonetheless. "I saw you wince."

"Oh! It's nothing important. I mean, you build muscle, it's not a problem if you don't get a 10."

"Actually, it is", Bruce corrected. "I need to be able to control my movements."

Dick tilted his head. He had a point.

"Alright. So your feet weren't perfectly at level with your head when you did this. I mean… Like this."

Bruce helped him up, so Dick could show him. Dick repeated Bruce's routine, only skipping the parts where, again, the strength prevented him from imitating, pointing out the – very – few moments when Bruce had been off.

When he came back down, he was surprised to see Bruce looking at him appraisingly. Dick blushed.

"I used those to train, whenever the trapezes weren't available. It helps with the balance as well as the strength."

"Impressive", Bruce commented, making Dick turn an ever darker shade of red. "You make it look natural." He paused. "I can see why they called you Robin."

A wave of warmth and sadness filled Dick's chest. His mom's smile when she called him her little red-chested bird. Her perfume. The softness of her arms.

Dick breathed in.

"So, your turn again? We can also do the asymmetric bars! And you should get a trapeze in there."

"Definitively", Bruce approved, and the sadness receded just a little bit.

They did move to the bars afterward, and those Dick _loved_. It wasn't a trapeze, but it was the next best thing, with the possibility to fly from one bar to the other with the most improbable figures. He actually made them more and more so, giggling, until he heard the invaluable sound of Bruce laughter.

Entirely worth the loss of his dignity.

Having reached his goal, Dick finally gathered some speed to end his performance with a somersault. Applause echoed in the cave – Alfred. Dick bowed, right and left, grinning madly when Bruce joined in by clapping as well.

Dick looked up. Alfred winked at him, his eyes sparkling with joy at Bruce's smile. Dick's own grin widened. He would have to come down training _every day_ if he managed to make Bruce laugh like this. It would be his official duty!

Maybe Batman could use some red and yellow and green. Maybe Dick could honor his parents' colors by giving hope, not to a crowd, but to a man who was giving too much to people not to get something back.

Now, that made Dick want to give hugs. He prepared for his jump – it was much funnier to take Bruce by surprise – when the Batcomputer beeped. Bruce glanced at it and frowned.

"Is this a sticker on the main screen?"

Dick blinked, then his eyes widened. There _was_ a sticker at the top of the screen. A _bat_ sticker.

"I'm sure it shouldn't disturb your usage of the Batcomputer, sir", Alfred commented.

Dick _beamed_ at him. This man was. Pure. Gold.

Bruce stared at Alfred. Then decided to pretend none of this was happening and checked what had brought the computer to life. All amusement left his face. Dick shuddered, coming closer.

"What happened?"

Then he froze. The face on the pop-up was Zucco's, and a red warning on said: released.

It was impossible. It was. How could this man have been…? Jim Gordon had said they had all they needed to held trial! It had been planned for the next month, right after the holidays!

Bruce opened Zucco's file on screen, specifically the one from GCPD, since he apparently managed to get any information he wanted from their database. The last update was from this morning: evidence had gone missing.

 _Evidence had gone missing_.

Bruce cursed. Dick didn't have the heart to do the same; he felt numb. His legs were trembling. He'd better sit down, so he did, on the desk chair.

"I'm sorry", Bruce said. "The new DA isn't as though as I hoped. They didn't pick Harvey's assistant but someone new. I should have investigated on him earlier. I should have…"

 _The new DA_ – because, before all this mess, Dent had been the one helping him.

"Not your fault", Dick interrupted. He felt so tired. He couldn't stay there and do nothing. He needed to _act_. "What can we do?"

That stopped Bruce in his tracks.

" _We_ aren't going to do anything", he declared. "You will be going back upstairs while I investigate."

Dick straightened.

"No."

He couldn't be clearer. He wasn't going to let Bruce work alone on this one. He had been helping for almost a month! This was his _parents' murderer_. No. Way.

"Yes", Bruce retorted, equally clear.

They glared at each other. For longer than a minute, nothing moved. Then Bruce pointed at the door.

"Out."

"It's not…"

" _Out_."

Dick couldn't believe it. He glanced at Alfred, who was as blank as an ID picture. His throat closed up. This wasn't happening. _This wasn't happening_.

He stared at Bruce's face, cold as marble. It _was_ happening, and Dick didn't think something could hurt more than his parents' killer being released, but this did.

He headed for the stairs.

"And don't try to get in through the tunnel", Bruce mentioned. "I closed it."

It was impossible to slam the clock door, so Dick closed it very, very slowly. Then he ran to his room to cry his eyes out.

sososo

Zucco was pissed. Yes, he was free; yes, he still had some influence in this time city, rodent vigilantes be damned. But _for God's sake_ he was going to have someone's _head_ for this. Specifically, Batman's.

Not only had the man caused his arrest but he had done so at the worst possible moment. The Roman was in trouble. Someone had been killing not only his little thug-toys but people who ranked high in the Falcone family. Not knowing who was behind it, he had struck back to all potentials belligerents.

Including Zucco.

"What do you mean, _the club has been sold?_ "

His second lieutenant swallowed visibly. The first one hadn't shown up. The rumor was he had chosen to hang up the hat to join the Falcones. Admittedly, he'd done so because he had a gun pointed at his head.

"There was some pressure, boss, we… Anthony couldn't handle it."

That would be his ex-first lieutenant. Right. Blame the dead. Not that Anthony was dead – yet.

"Very well. Handle _him_ and we'll see."

His second hesitate.

"What about the club?"

"I'll take care of that myself, since obviously you had to wait for me to be free to strike back."

He would have to be careful about this. The Falcones were powerful and, though he'd never admit as much, Zucco had managed to get by only by _not_ pissing off the Roman. However, too much was too much. Carmine had stepped on a line. He had to react.

But he could do so indirectly. Someone was killing the members of Falcone's family. Zucco smirked. He merely had to find out _who_ – and help him to finish the job.

sososo

It was 5PM when Dick's tears ran out. Bruce was most probably gone and Alfred would be avoiding him – or, more specifically, would haunt the library to make sure Dick didn't try to go back to the cave. Which left him the rest of the manor to himself.

And the door unguarded.

It was a long way until Gotham proper, even with a bike. Dick couldn't wait to be old enough to have a motorbike. His mother had always said she wouldn't let him have one. He still had four years to convince Bruce. If he still lived there at 16.

In the meantime, bike it would have to be. Once he reached the maze of Gotham's streets, making it impossible for Alfred to find him when he'd notice he was gone, he stopped for a moment to use his phone. Babs answered at the second ringing.

"Hi, Dick?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late, but can I come over?"

"Well, dad left for work an hour ago so yeah, sure. Is there a problem?"

She was pretty; but he liked her brain even more than her looks.

"Yeah, there is. I'll tell you everything when I'm there. Err, Bruce mentioned you lived uptown?"

"In Grant, yes, on Livingston. Do you know the place? Otherwise, I can come pick you up."

"I've got a GPS on my phone, thanks. What's the house number?"

She gave him a few directions so he would find he house more easily. It took him about twenty minutes to get there. His mother would have frowned at him for arriving at someone's home at almost 6 for no good reason, but – he had one.

Babs opened the door and frowned when she saw his face.

"Get in", she said.

The house was cozy though not exactly tidy. It felt like someone had carefully chosen the furniture then had left it there, oblivious. It wasn't entirely messy – there wasn't any underwear on the ground – but outdated newspapers still piled next to the couch and breakfast leftover had been left on the dining table. Jim had probably eaten but an hour ago before leaving for work, Dick realized dizzily.

A mug of hot chocolate materialized in his hands.

"Talk", Babs ordered, sitting in front of him.

He blinked at the mug. Marshmallow floated at the surface. He used the spoon to pick one, then savored the sugary taste. Babs was smiling. He felt slightly better.

"Did you hear about… about my parents?" he asked first, because they hadn't talked about it at all, this subject not exactly being one he wanted to mention.

She nodded.

"Do you know exactly what happened?" he insisted. "Your dad was on the case."

"He didn't give me _details_ ", she emphasized. "But yes."

"Zucco has just been freed", Dick blurted out.

Her eyes widened, her freckles becoming even more visible as she paled.

"He _what?_ " she yelled after the first wave of surprise. "But they nailed him!"

"Apparently, the evidence disappeared."

"But that's not possible! How would Zucco's men manage to get in the GCPD? I mean, someone would have seen!"

"I don't know."

She jumped on her feet, grabbing her coat. Dick gaped.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to talk to my dad. He has to give you more than that."

Dick looked at his mug. Then back at the door. She blushed.

"Alright, hot chocolate first. Priorities."

It was Dick's turn to blush.

"No, we should go, I…"

"Need to have some sugar, kid, you're pale as a ghost. Come on. Enjoy. I'll have one as well", she added, hanging her coat back on the stands before going back to the kitchen to prepare a mug for herself.

This time, rather than sitting on the armchair in front of him, she joined him on the couch. He hoped very hard his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. Babs observed him in silence. He squirmed.

"Should we watch a movie?" she proposed. "I've just got the last Avengers."

"The what?"

She gaped.

"You don't know the Avengers?"

"Of course I do!" Dick protested. "I just didn't realize they made a movie out of the comics!"

"On which Earth did you live those last few years?"

He rolled his eyes.

"We didn't own a TV and I don't go very often to the cinema."

"I'll have to fix that. The next one will hit the screen on May. You're definitively coming with me."

It was his turn to gape. Cinema? With a _girl_? But, no, it wasn't a date. It was for a _superhero movie_. Which was _even cooler_. If she kept being that amazing, he was going to overload.

"Alright?" he managed, his voice faint. Darn. He cleared his throat. "I'll buy the pop-corns."

She grinned. Her smiles had something scary, he noted. He liked that.

"And that settles what we're going to do now. I'll skip _Hulk_ , it isn't the best one and you don't really need to see it. But we should be able to see _Iron man 1_ and _2_ , _Thor_ , and maybe _Captain America_. At worst, you can come over next week as well, right?"

Another marshmallow was melting on Dick tongue, so he nodded silently. Three minutes later, the movie was starting on the big TV screen. As the title appeared, Babs took his hand, and didn't let go.

sososo

The new building was shit. It used to belong to a successful car seller who had gone bankrupt two years before and no one had ever taken the time to either fix the place or burn it to the ground. Zucco hated it. He also hated, in increasing order: Jim Gordon, Falcone, and Batman.

He'd have to deal with the cop after the first two had been offed. Of course, if his men kept being incompetent, he wasn't going to off anyone.

He heard steps in the corridor.

"For fuck's sake, I swear, if you haven't get news this time I'm going to off _you!_ " he yelled at the door, ready to punch his newly promoted second in the face.

The door opened with a creak. The corridor was dark, its light off. Zucco took a step back. Dark corridors painfully reminded him of a certain vigilante. He might want Batman dead but he wasn't crazy. He didn't intend to go after him in person.

"I heard you were looking for me?" a familiar voice asked.

Thankfully, it wasn't the hoarse consonants of the Dark Knight or whatever. Zucco relaxed.

"Who the Hell are you? This isn't a public service!"

"Oh, did I break in the wrong building?" the voice commented sarcastically.

A figure appeared among the shadows, its shiny shoes stepping in the light while his upper body stayed in the dark. It was close enough for Zucco to recognize the face, though – he would have recognized that face anywhere.

"Dent?" he exclaimed, stupefied. "What does the DA want with me? I've been cleared of all charges!"

"Don't bet your life on it", Dent snapped.

The man took a deep breath, and smiled. There was something wrong with his face, Zucco realized, his brain screaming at him to get away, _now, you idiot_.

"Can't you scum even read a newspaper?" the (apparently) ex-DA asked rhetorically. "I'm not into justice anymore. Or rather… I'm into _true_ justice. Not the sorry mimic humankind came up with."

Ice gripped Zucco's stomach. It was the cold realization that he was the only sane person in the room.

Zucco pulled himself together.

"Whatever makes your day", he said dismissively. "Why are you here?" Then his brain caught up. "You didn't come about _Falcone_ , are you?"

"What else? Despite your recent… set-back, you have resources I don't."

Zucco couldn't help it; he started to laugh. Dent didn't seem to appreciate. He took another step forward and, this time, his face became fully visible, the left part horribly disfigured while the right one was as handsome as ever.

The mobster snorted and waved at the armchair in the room's corner.

"Don't get all excited. Sit down. Have a drink. We need to talk, partner."

Dent calmed down as abruptly as he'd gotten angry. He sat down, accepted the glass Zucco handed him, and after having watched Zucco drink some of his own alcohol, took a sip.

"Very well. Let's talk."

His smile was much more frightening than his ire.

sososo

 _Notes:_ _Dick out of the Cave - but he still has Babs. And now the villains are working together..._

 _Who knows how this will end ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Note: Guest: thanks for the review! Yes, Dick is cute indeed :)_

 **Chapter 8**

Dick was in trouble. He knew that – and he really didn't care. He had been away from the Cave for six days. This was the seventh, hence a Saturday, and he had woken up at 6AM to slip in the library.

He had gone to see Jim first, on Thursday. Babs had come with him, for support. The cop hadn't given him much: the investigation was still ongoing. He hadn't admitted out loud that he had been discouraged from pursuing it but Dick could read behind the lines. Babs had been furious.

Which brought him in the Batcave. Getting past the clock hadn't been that tricky: Bruce had merely changed the time activating the passage's opening, probably not having had enough time to do anything more drastic.

Batman usually worked until 4, except when something big was going on. Dick had made sure Bruce was asleep in his room before going down. Now, he was alone, with access to the Batcomputer and to Zucco's file.

There weren't many leads. Actually, the computer opened Dent's by default when Dick turned it on, so despite everything, Zucco probably wasn't the first priority in Bruce's mind.

Dick got it. Dent was killing people. That they were mobsters wasn't important; they were still people. Zucco, on the other hand, had apparently lost a lot of influence in the city during his little stay in jail, which meant he wasn't an immediate danger.

The scum still didn't deserve to walk free, but yeah, priorities.

Dick sighed. There was nothing he could use in Zucco's file. He had been through it back and forth for an hour and… nothing. He wasn't going to confront him a second time – his chances of survivals would be way too low, and so would his chances of getting anything out of the man. He wasn't able to spy on people like Bruce did. He would have to wait for Batman to find something.

"Fuck it", Dick swore, punching the console.

Sadly, the console didn't punch back. Dick needed to blow off some steam. He closed the file. Underneath, Dent's was still open.

Dick started reading.

The list of the people he'd killed was frightening. They were all members of a _Falcone_ family. Dick browsed the computer; apparently, the family was part of Gotham's mob. Actually, some considered Carmine 'The Roman' Falcone as the boss of all bosses in the city. The last few weeks must have gotten on his nerves.

This explained why Dent had been chasing them. Dick guessed they had been the ones to abduct his fiancée, Gilda, to pressure him into doing their biding. And Harvey had refused. As a consequence, they had beaten him up and tried to burn him with the building.

"What a waste", Dick sighed.

"It is, isn't it?"

Dick jumped slightly at Bruce's voice, but didn't stay tense. The tone had been sad rather than angry. He turned to his tutor. Bruce looked pale and tired.

"You should be asleep", Dick said.

"I was. Someone activated the alarm by entering the cave."

Dick winced.

"I'm sorry."

He really was. The point had never been to disturb Bruce, especially if he had been sleeping. The man did enough at night not to be woken up so early in the morning because Dick was misbehaving.

However, something was weird. If the alarm had been activated when he had first stepped in the cave…

"How long have you been there?"

"Only five minutes", Bruce assured him.

"You have been awake for more than an hour", Dick insisted.

Bruce seemed amused. Good: anything was better than his previous weariness, even if it was at Dick's expense.

"There are cameras in the cave", Bruce admitted. "I wondered what you were going to do after reading the files. I didn't think you'd switch to another case."

Somehow, it didn't surprise Dick to have been spied on. After all, he had broken into the cave, so he kind of deserved it.

"Well there isn't much I can do about Zucco, can I? I thought I'd go through it again after Dent's just in case, I don't know, I had a revelation of something."

Bruce nodded.

"It happens, sometimes. Not quite as often as I would like."

They both looked back at the screen, where Dent's perfect face from before the accident stared at them. Next to the old photograph was an image from a footage with his new disfigured looks. It wasn't from the scene Dick had witnessed life, but from another of Dent's killings.

"He doesn't seem to mind being seen", Dick commented.

"He was caught on three different tapes."

"The Falcones, they're the ones who killed Gilda?"

"I assume so. I don't have any evidence."

Dick blinked at him.

"Did you try finding evidence so you could arrest Carmine in order to protect him?"

Bruce pursed his lips, his face eerily bluish because of the screen's faint light.

"Life is sacred. There isn't one worth more than another, regardless what people do with it." He hesitated. "I'm sorry I didn't look into your parents' case more thoroughly, those last few days."

"It's alright", Dick assured him, at the moment the words got out he knew they were true. "It's like you said. Life is sacred. My parents… I want their killer stopped, but they're dead already. The problem is more to make sure he doesn't do the same to anybody else. Clearly though, for the moment, he isn't the higher threat."

Bruce darkened.

"No, he isn't. Harvey is. And I have no idea what his next move will be. He targeted a specific section of the Falcone's family then went up in the hierarchy. I can only assume he's going to aim for Carmine next."

"You've been ' _monitoring_ ' him, then?" Dick asked, miming the quotation marks as he spoke.

Bruce didn't smile, but his face still lightened a bit, his tight lines of worry relaxing a bit.

"Yes, his house is bugged. I couldn't get to his numerous cars, though, nor his office. With the kind of life he lives, he isn't exactly trustworthy. His security is better than the mayor's."

"That good, right?" Dick pointed out. "I mean, it will make it harder for Dent to approach him."

"Yes. But it also makes his moves unpredictable. I can't envision what he will do to reach his goal."

The frustration was audible in Bruce's voice. He had probably been thinking about it the whole night, elaborating plans and going through what he knew of Carmine's schedule.

Dick frowned at the screen.

"Any idea about where the coin came from?"

"None", Bruce sighed, shaking his head.

Dick lifted himself on the chair's arms, thinking hard.

"He didn't kill _all_ members of Mc Donald's crew, right? Only a few."

"Six out of ten", Bruce specified.

"Right. About half of it."

Bruce flinched. Then paled. Then looked at Dick, and back at the screen. Then _swore_.

"Damnit, you're right. He's using the coin to clear himself of responsibility, in his mind at last. His obsession didn't change – justice is what he seeks. Only he doesn't trust the system anymore."

Dick found himself puzzled.

"I'm not sure to see the link between the coin and justice?"

Bruce blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He seemed as surprised as Dick.

"I'm not sure myself", he said slowly. "But that idea came naturally to my mind. Harvey… He's always been harsh on people. To him, justice is like a blade. Something absolute. And blind. As DA, he discarded attenuating circumstances. One was guilty or not guilty."

"He should still have tried!" Dick exclaimed. "What happened to him is horrible, yes, but he can't just go there and kill people, even if they're not innocents!"

Bruce smiled. He raised a hand and Dick thought he would put it on his shoulder, but no; it landed on his hair, ruffling it.

"Thank you, lad."

"At your service!" Dick grinned, before going back to serious. "What are you going to do now?"

Bruce grinned back to him. That made him look much younger.

"Now, I'm going to improvise."

sososo

Dick had spent two more hours helping Bruce going through all the data before going upstairs to have breakfast. Babs had arrived at 8.30, full of energy, for his lessons. It had been hard to concentrate and he had gone to bed early – but only after programming the Batcomputer system into sending him an email each time the warning system was triggered.

He slept like a baby, knowing he'd know if anything important happened.

He had planned to sleep late on Sunday after all this. He should have put his phone on mute because the quick rhythm of Franz Ferdinand's ' _I'm your villain_ ' woke him up at 9 sharp.

"Nhh yeah?" he managed, wondering who could call him at all.

"Not an early bird, then, mh?" Babs teased him.

Dick sat down in one fluid movement.

"Babs? I, well, usually I am, but… Did something happen?"

"Yep. Me. Can I come by?"

"Give me an hour?"

"Alright, see you soon!"

She hung up. Dick stared at his phone, disbelievingly. How did this become his life? Ah, right. He'd decided to become Batman's ward and to spend time with a red-haired girl. So it was probably his fault.

Since he was awake, he got up to take a good shower. Quickly enough, he was in the kitchen for breakfast. Alfred made the most wonderful pancakes and he had _maple syrup_. Pure. Delight.

Bruce was entering the kitchen, looking more like a zombie than like a human being, when the doorbell rang.

"It's for me!" Dick exclaimed, running to the hall, to Alfred's dismay.

He really didn't want Babs to think he needed someone to open the door for him, though, so he went anyway. Or maybe it was because of the running part? Dick skidded to the entrance, greeting Babs as he let her in.

"What was so urgent that you have to come right away?" he asked, curious.

"Can we get to your room or something?" She looked around. "I guess this place has more private rooms than my house. Somewhere no one will interrupt?"

Now truly intrigued, Dick guided her to his room. He only realized what he had done once inside – in his bedroom, alone, with a girl. His cheeks turned bright red. Nothing was going to happen! Why was he even thinking about this! His brain really had a problem lately.

Babs settled on the ground without fuss. Dick joined her; the carpet was comfortable and he spent a lot of time there himself.

"So?" he insisted.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone, or I'm going to be in trouble", she warned.

He knew better than to protest.

"I swear. _So_?"

She grinned mischievously.

"I might have put my hands on dad's computer this morning. And it's possible that it is connected to the GCPD database."

"You hacked into the police's database?" Dick squealed with awe.

"Not really", she corrected modestly. "Only on my dad's computer, he has all the accesses."

Dick felt excited and wary at the same time. He really shouldn't encourage her to behave like that – Bruce would have his _head_ if he ever heard of it – but on the other hand…

On the other hand, this was his parents' murder and he might be willing to wait a bit before having Zucco arrested, but he wanted him arrested, period.

"Tell me?" he asked.

"Well", she started, getting her laptop out of her backpack. "I had to rummage around, but I have it. The evidence disappeared because Zucco paid someone to get it."

"Err, don't get mad at me but, wasn't that obvious?"

He missed her reaction, because his phone chose this specific moment to vibrate in his pocket. Darn! He really hoped this was a message, but didn't expect it to be. Bruce and Alfred didn't have any reason to send him one while being in the same house than him, and the only other person likely to text him was sitting in front of him with a grin on her face. Why did things always happen at the same time?

"Why didn't you talk about this to your father?" he said quickly.

She frowned.

"Because he's a good detective. He probably knows this already and something is preventing him to act. Or _someone_. Like Commissioner Loeb."

Considering the length of the file Bruce had on him, it was likely. However, that didn't answer his question.

"If he can't do anything, I doubt _we_ can."

"Of course we can! This is your parents' murderer, Dick. We need to stop him!"

Looking at her so determined to run into danger, Dick kind of understood what Bruce probably felt each time he entered the Batcave.

"Listen", he sighed. "We can't do that. I mean I won't and you shouldn't. This is police work. I trust your father. He's a good cop. Even in this city, he manages to be one. Batman helped him on this case before, it's likely he will again."

She jumped on her feet.

"We can't just wait arms crossed for Batman to save the day!"

"We can't just _run into danger_!" he corrected, getting up as well not to talk to her nostrils. "This is _my parents' murder_ ", he pleaded. "Do you think it's easy for me to tell you to back off?"

His phone kept buzzing, silently reminding him that something was going to happen, was probably happening, right now.

She studied his face. He felt horrible. At any other moment, he would have – done what, exactly? Taken the wrong decision by letting her give him this information? Then gone with her to find out more, and more, and spy on mobsters until one of them realized and shot those two annoying teenagers?

She sighed.

"Very well." She fell back on the carpet, closing her laptop and putting it back in her bag. "It was a crazy idea anyway."

"No…" He sat with her and put a hand on her shoulder, wishing he could give as much meaning to this movement as Bruce did. "Thank you. It was… It means a lot to me that you tried."

She forced a smile on her face. He did the same. They probably both looked ridiculous.

"What about, we forget about this, and, and we organize another movie night next week-end?" he suggested, hoping Bruce hadn't left the Batcave yet, please, _please_ , let him still be there. "Or even on Friday? We could make it a week-end?"

This time, her smile was more sincere.

"Friday is the 25th. But say Saturday and you've got yourself a deal."

"Fine by me!" Dick exclaimed, glad this ended well.

She took her bag, then hesitated.

"I'd better get going. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be", he assured her truthfully. "I meant it when I thanked you."

She hugged him. The time stopped for a few seconds. She was… warm and nice, and _just a friend, Dick Grayson, gosh! Were those the hormones everyone talked about?_

He wished he could tell her to stay. They had a big TV at the manor, and a phone, they could have called a store and rent some DVDs to have their movie moment right now.

He hugged back, then let her go.

"See you on Saturday, then."

Her eyes sparkled as she grinned at him.

"That's _not_ a date, circus boy."

"I wouldn't dare implying it!" he grinned right back at her.

He accompanied her to the hall and stayed to wave at her when she left. He closed the door only once she was too far for him to see.

Then he ran to the library, through the clock, and into the Batcave.

Bruce _was_ still there, but already in his suit and heading for the Batmobile. Dick felt his heartbeat accelerate: this had never happened during the day before, not since he saved him from Zucco – and he was now aware that Bruce had done so only because he knew Dick was running into big trouble.

"What happened?" he asked, making sure not to present himself like a menace by doing the unthinkable, such as getting close enough to the Batmobile for Bruce to imagine he'd like to accompany him.

Which he did want. But he got why he couldn't go. He still intended to be kept in the loop.

"I'm going. Stay. In the cave."

Bruce's insistent tone actually increased Dick's worry.

"I will! Just tell me, before you go."

"Harvey has taken Carmine Falcone hostage", Batman explained in an efficient tone. "He threatens to burn the whole building down, with everyone in it."

Dick frowned. Something was amiss.

"Wait, you can't just go like that. Dent – Harvey – has operated very efficiently until now. If he wanted Falcone dead, he would have killed him. What is he waiting for? I mean, it has to be a trap."

"I know", Bruce said, sliding in the Batmobile.

"But – Bruce!"

The glare was 100% Batman. Dick could tell, despite the white lenses of the mask.

"No names while in costume", Batman reminded him.

Then the Batmobile's door closed. Which didn't mean Dick couldn't talk to him. He ran to the Batcomputer, opening the com' link.

"You can't just go! You need something, anything… Is Jim there already?"

"Yes."

"Is there _anything_ I can do to help? Anything at all?"

"Stay in the cave."

Dick gritted his teeth, frustrated. He almost wished he'd have gone for Babs' idea after all.

He shook his head. Bruce wasn't giving him anything, fine. He still had the means to do something – or, at least, to observe. He reopened the last warning and paled. He knew the address where Dent had cornered Falcone. Six weeks ago, the club had belonged to Zucco.

sososo

It was twenty minutes later and Dick was still in the cave. His eyes were locked to Batman's visual feed, though, and his heart was beating hard.

He had used the few minutes it had taken for the Batmobile to arrive there and be parked to gather some information. Despite his influence, Zucco had fallen out of luck during his short stay in jail. Carmine Falcone had bought his club and, with it, most of Zucco's possessions. Dick had found the list on the computer and realized how fortuitous had been their face-to-face, considering the amount of building he'd owned.

Anyway, it was a wonder Zucco hadn't done anything to strike back at the Falcone Family. Too much of a wonder to be believable. Dick had strong suspicions on how Harvey Dent had managed to get past security and straight to Falcone – after all, the Roman wasn't known to be careless.

This explained Bruce's insistence. He didn't want Dick to run into trouble because of his anger.

Which meant he didn't know Dick at all.

To be fair, Bruce hadn't been aware of most of Dick's accomplishments, because most of them were about him _not_ following his emotions.

Dick exhaled. Bruce didn't want his help despite this obviously being a trap and, now that he was inside the building, Dick didn't dare to give advice. Now wasn't the time to distract him.

Bruce was moving in the attic. The visual turned green as he switched his lenses to night vision. Right! He already knew how to overload the building's system in order to turn off the lights. Bruce activated his tool, and… Nothing happened.

Dick turned livid.

"Batman! If he's working with Zucco, it means he anticipated you doing this, because last time you did the exact same…"

The ground collapsed under Batman's feet. Dick saw a grapple being fired but something cut the line before Bruce could drag himself back to the ceiling, to safety. Instead of stopping to look around, he took cover, rolling behind – nothing, there was nothing! Dick tried to find some cameras, bugs, _anything_ that would allow him to help.

Shots echoed in the vast dance floor. The visuals were too blurry for Dick to follow. He saw Bat-boomerangs being thrown, the cape, then it stabilized as Batman rolled behind the counter.

"Batman", Dent roared. "You can stay hidden there, playing tag, while I kill off those thugs you protect before innocents lives. Or you could surrender. Your life for theirs. Easy."

"Don't", Dick whispered, then paled as Bruce got up. "Don't! He didn't use the _coin!_ "

Too late: Batman was standing, right in Dent's line of sight. Dent smirked. His face was even more horrible than Dick remembered, the burn covering an almost perfect half of it.

"Finally, partner! And here I thought I'd see you sooner. Or were you avoiding me? After all, you weren't there the one time I needed you."

"Stop this, Harvey. It's still time to make the right decision."

"Oh yes, it most definitively is."

The madman – because there was no other word for his behavior than madness – turned his gun to Carmine. The mob boss was tied up on a chair, sitting very straight, in a tailor-made silver suit which didn't look even slightly crumpled. He didn't seem fazed.

Strangely, Dent didn't fire. Instead, he threw a pair of manacles at Batman.

"Put those in. On the front. No games."

Bruce could get out of those in five minutes, Dick knew. He had seen him train not to lose his touch. Unfortunately, Dent seemed aware of his opponent skill. He waved at a cable Dick hadn't spotted, hanging in the middle of the room. It ended with a hook.

"The manacles. On this."

The gun was still pointed at Falcone. Bruce moved carefully, but Dent didn't relax, even for a second, even once his hands seemed mostly secured on the cable. Instead, Dent took a few steps back and activated a lever. The cable tightened, then lifted Batman's weight until he had to stand on his toes.

Dick's face was livid. What would Batman do now?

"Is this when your partner shows up?" Dent suddenly commented.

Dick couldn't see Bruce but his face stopped moving and he could picture him staring at his old friend, his face blank.

"What partner?"

Oh, Bruce. Someone had to warn him his very blankness was a tell. Dick was puzzled, though. How _did_ Dent know about him? He had only started working with Batman after – after he'd saved Dent from the fire, Dick realized. Oh, shit. Did that mean he knew Batman's identity?

No. No; he would probably have attacked the manor directly if that had been the case. Caught Bruce off guard. Not that Bruce ever was, but still.

"Don't mock me!" Dent was yelling. "I know he's there! I _saw him!_ You might have told him to stay away, but he won't. Oh no. Not when he'll realize _you_ will die if he doesn't show up!"

"Harvey."

" _Stop calling me that!_ Harvey Dent died in that fire. With his _heart_. With his _life_." Someone had to point out that one usually died at the same time as one's life, Dick thought. "Because he _left her there!_ He left here to _die!_ "

"There is no partner, Dent."

" _I told you to stop!_ "

That's when Dick realized how bad the situation had become. Because this, the moment when Dent lost control, should have been Batman's cue to act. But he couldn't. He hadn't opened the manacles yet and, now, he'd missed the occasion. Dent had his temper back under control.

"I don't really care about what you say", he smirked. "It's not you I want. You don't give a damn about me, very well, I won't give a damn about _you_. You created yourself a weakness, and I will _use it_."

Then, in a blink, he was back to fury.

"What do you need him for anyway? _I_ was your partner! We were cleansing the city! _You don't need him, only me!_ "

Something cold dropped Dick's stomach. Dent was going to kill Bruce. Dent was going to kill Bruce and there was nothing Dick could do about it, not without putting himself in danger, not without falling into the very trap Dent had put in place.

And yet, he felt no hesitation as he grabbed his green training tights, his hoodie and one of Bruce's utility belts. Batman had saved him once, in that very building. He hadn't been prepared, then, hadn't known what the risks were nor what his goal was. Now, he knew.

And it was time for him to save Batman.

sososo

 _Note: Almost the end! :) Dick is still untrained, but very determined. Let's hope he can save Batman ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The club's building stood alone, surrounded by an alley on both sides, a street at the front, a backstreet, well, at the back. Dick already knew the place topography but he was still studying the map on the Batmobile's computer. He'd printed one too, in case he hadn't found the car, but he had: it wasn't parked very far away.

This time, he had to be prepared. If he wasn't – there was more than just his life on the line this time. Bruce's and Carmine's were in the balance as well.

"If he doesn't show up _soon_!"

Dick jumped at Dent's harsh tone. He had also taken an earpiece tuned on Batman's feed, to make sure he was alright and hadn't been moved elsewhere; but it didn't helped his concentration.

"There is no one, Harvey", Bruce kept assuring, his voice calm.

Dick followed his example and went back to his screen. He lacked choice regarding entrances when no window had been left carelessly open.

The roof had skylights, but it had been Bruce's choice and Dick doubted Dent would make the mistake of leaving it unattended. A glance with the thermal binoculars he'd grabbed before leaving confirmed as much. The main door would also be under heavy surveillance. The garage's entrance as well. However, the latter had a higher ceiling where Dick would be able to hide and had the advantage to be very near the main room where Dent kept Carmine and Batman.

 _Or_ he could get in exactly like he had last time. The utility belt he used had enough tools for him to open any window. He could find the room where he'd taken refuge easily enough. It had had an opening on the main room and – yes, the map confirmed a vent linked both room. That would put him right over their heads. He wouldn't be seen; maybe he'd be able to sever the cable holding Bruce's hands. Maybe he could throw a Bat-boomerang – no, this name was too long, that wouldn't do – a _Batarang_ accurately enough to get Dent's hand and have him drop his gun.

Maybe he was going to get killed. However, if he didn't do anything, two people would die. He took a deep breath, checked one last time the black paint he'd put on his eyes to hide his features – and got out of the car.

Would it be too cocky? Dick wondered, heading for the alley. Would Dent expect him to do just that?

Dick grinned. He bet that the man didn't.

Jumping over the fence didn't prove harder than the first time. He had a rope to help him up the wall, not relying only on the building's old pipes. Stopping at the third floor, he put a foot carefully on the window's border and started working. His work was slow and regular, made harder by the thermic vision glasses which he had put back on his nose. He refused to remove them despite the impediment: he needed to know if anyone was coming his way.

"Let Falcone go. It's me you want."

"No, it's not", Dent sniggered. "It's the _boy_."

"There is no boy. I work alone."

Did Bruce really think he was? More probably, he _hoped_ Dick wouldn't show up, afraid he'd get hurt. Dick intended to prove him wrong.

The window finally opened. Dick slipped inside, scanning the floor. There wasn't anyone here: the men Dent had taken with him concentrated on patrolling the ground floor and ceiling. There were only six of them. Hopefully, they would keep guard instead of showing up at the worst possible moment.

Dick removed the lenses for a second to orient himself, then walked toward the office from last time. His palms were sweating. He had been so full of himself when he'd come here to confront Zucco! All anger, no brains. What a fool he'd been!

Yet, here he was again.

"Maybe I should get a few bullets in you to get him running, mh?" Dent threatened. "I've still got eight of those. One on each leg? Or in the arms? This position can't be comfortable."

"Or you could let me down so we can talk."

" _I'm past talking!_ "

Dick closed the room's door behind him. He took another look around; no one was coming. Staying well clear of the window giving on the main room, he took three screwdrivers from his belt, chose the one fit to the air grate, and started unbolting. Soon, the vent was opened.

He could hear his heart's beating in his ears. It felt like Dent should have been able to hear it from the next room. He rummaged about in his backpack, taking out his talc for his hands. He couldn't afford slippery hands right now.

Then he couldn't find anything else to do to delay further. He took a deep breath and slipped inside the vent, leaving his bag behind not to weight himself down with it. The vent was dusty. It smelled. It was _narrow_. Even with his child's shoulder he could barely move forward. The thermals allowed him not to find himself in the dark, but instead they colored his vision with strange spots of green and reds.

Yet, he crawled forward. He had to be slow, so slow, not to make any noise. He barely dared to breathe.

"I'm going to cut your face", Dent whispered a few inches away from Batman's cowl. "Or maybe only half of it, what do you think?"

"I think you should still be in the hospital."

" _Stop mocking me!_ "

Dick winced as the words echoed both in his earpiece and below him. Dent kept going from amusement to rage to taunt to menaces. And the circle was getting quicker.

Then, finally, he reached another trap, right above his head. Either for efficiency or for design, the vent wasn't hidden in a wall. Instead, it hanged over the dance floor, making it a perfect place for a bird to stand on.

Dick found his screwdriver and put it back to work, not forgetting to grease the screws first. He couldn't make noise. He bit off a nervous giggle. He couldn't _screw_ up.

The grate dissociated from its support. Dick twisted – slow, careful – to push it farther away, where it wouldn't bother him. Then he waddled up, pushing wish his feet, to finally extract himself from the vent.

He stopped for a second to remove the thermals he didn't need anymore, putting them back in the passage. Finally, he was able to _see_. And he was, indeed, right above the scene. Hard to estimate the height of the ceiling but he sure couldn't afford to trip.

Not that he _even_ did.

He walked easily along the vent, taking a few more steps forward in order to reach the infamous cable. Dent kept talking but Dick wasn't listening anymore. All his attention focused on the task at hand: burning the cable enough for it to give way. How ironic that he would do this to save Bruce when the very same act had killed his parents.

But it meant he knew _exactly_ how to do this. He had studied the file often enough to be able to recite the steps by heart.

He stopped before the cable was entirely severed. Now what the time to come up with an amazing idea on how to get down without breaking any bones.

Well, he _did_ have a rope, didn't he?

He had honestly considered the idea to take a _grapple_ instead. For at ten solid seconds. But he hadn't been taught how to use it.

Bruce would _have_ to make up for it.

Preferably before being abducted by another supervillain.

As things were, Dick tied his rope to the vent he was standing on, then walked around the whole thing. It described a large U around the dance floor's ceiling, which allowed him to find himself at the exact same spot on the other side of the room. Now was the moment.

He activated his com' link.

"Batman." The man didn't even wince despite the sudden whisper in his ear. "Pull on the cable in three seconds. Two. One."

Dick jumped. At once, he was in his element again: pure speed and thin air and adrenaline. He was _flying_!

And, when he flew, no one could stop him.

He hit Dent feet first, right in the stomach. At this speed, the villain was expulsed against the wall while the shock – and a controlled roll on the ground – allowed Dick to avoid following him. He got back on his feet gracefully, right in time to see Batman get rid of his manacles, the cable lying on the ground. He hadn't even heard the snap.

"Don't stay there", Batman growled. "There are others."

"Six more", Dick confirmed, running to Falcone to free him from his bounds.

Too quickly so: Dick heard a _click_ behind his back. He didn't stop to think, rolling instead, then jumping, then rolling again, as the bullets hit the ground all around him. One, two, three… He couldn't stop to think! Four, five… He couldn't lose his concentration! Six. He cartwheeled past Falcone, grabbing one of the chair's legs as he passed. Seven – and a thump as the mobster fell on the ground, a bit safer.

 _Eight_.

Dick gathered speed with a somersault, feeling Batman moving at his side, shadowing him, hands on the ground, more speed and _slam!_ They kicked Dent at the exact same second, Batman with his left foot, Dick with his right one. The madman went rolling again, this time, for good.

Batman closed the manacles against Dent's wrists as Dick helped Falcone's up. Batman stopped him before he could finish freeing him.

"There's still six men outside", Batman reminded him. "And, free, he's a liability."

Dick nodded in understanding. They couldn't count on the mob boss not to use his own weapons, on his enemies or on _them_. Carmine pursed his lips. Under that man's cold stare, Dick found himself very glad for both the black pain and the hoodie keeping his face in the dark.

Batman took his grapple out of its holster. He moved like his arms hurt, or were at least numb. However, he only glared at Dick when the teenager approached him.

"You _stay here_."

"Yes sir!" Dick promised, straightening up. Then, after a few more seconds of glaring. "I _mean_ it!"

" _Good_. Call Gordon."

On this, he launched his grapple to the gape he'd left on the roof when the ceiling's floor had crumbled under him. His cape gave the illusion of him disappearing in the darkness.

Dick grinned. This. Was. So. _Cool_.

Horribly dangerous. Terrifying. Had he mentioned dangerous? But cool nonetheless.

Carmine snorted. Dick ignored him royally. Then realized his phone was in his bag, in an office on the third floor. He slowly turned to the mobsters, trying not to look pathetic.

"Hum. Do you happen to have a phone on you?"

sososo

The Batmobile parked on a dark alley. Dick's head was a bit fussy with all what had happened. It had only taken Batman twenty minutes to take down the six henchmen. Dick had been unsurprised to recognize one of them as the one who had surprised him slipping out of the ceiling that time he'd gone after Zucco by himself. It felt like a lifetime ago.

It had taken longer for the police to arrive – in retrospect, it hadn't been very fair of Bruce to tell him to call Jim while they both knew he worked on nightshift. It had only been two in the afternoon.

It had also been very embarrassing to try talking with another voice than his so Jim wouldn't recognize him.

The nightshift hadn't started yet but this was the winter solstice's eve. The sun hadn't even waited 5 o'clock to set. Dick knew about the seasons because his mother had loved reminding him that he was born on Spring's equinox.

He really shouldn't be that tired when it was only really the late afternoon. Yet, he had to fight back a yawn.

"Where are we? I thought we were heading back to the cave?"

They'd disappeared as soon as the police had arrived but Bruce had surprised Dick by having them stay around to observe. It hadn't taken long to realize he wanted to make sure Dent would be arrested, no proof lost just because The Roman didn't want cops around his business.

"Jim just sent me a message. He has news."

Dick blinked.

"Detective Gordon has your _phone number?_ " He couldn't believe it. Then he wrinkled his nose. "Is it a _Batphone_?"

Batman ruffled his hair.

"If you want it to be."

Dick beamed at him.

"Does it mean I can put a bat-sticker on it?"

Batman didn't answer, opening the car's doors instead. They slipped out. Strangely enough, he didn't stop Dick when he followed him. Glancing around, the teenager recognized the GCPD. His eyes widened.

"Are we going on the roof?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes. I want you to stay hidden."

Dick gaped.

"But I'm coming? For real?"

"For real. Will you stay put?"

Dick nodded frenetically. Batman opened his arms, allowing him to huddle up against his flank. He closed his arms around his waist, the cape closing all around Dick and, for a second, the teenager felt like nothing would ever happen to him. Because he was safe, safe in this place with Batman, and his smell of leather and some faint traces of colognes which he knew now Bruce used to hide the scent of disinfectant used on his wounds.

Then Batman fired his grappled and, in a blink, they were dragged to the top of the building. Bruce left him hidden behind the stairs' block, out of sight but close enough for him to hear whatever conversation would be held on the rooftop.

"You said you had news", Batman growled with that hoarse voice of his.

Jim jumped, glaring at the vigilante. Dick guessed he wasn't supposed to peek but how could he help it? Besides, between the dark paint on his face and his red hoodie, there were little chances that the detective would spot him. Red blended _really_ well into darkness.

"I do", Jim confirmed, radiating satisfaction. "He won't get out of it this time. Nor will Flass. This time, I got the goddamn crook. I have him on a damn _tape_ getting evidence out of the GCPD."

Dick's eyes widened. He thought this would be about Dent, about making sure they had all needed to keep him in jail, but… This was about Zucco. About his parents' murder.

He almost ran out of the shadows to demand explanations – but he didn't, taking a deep breath instead. Bruce would take care of it for him.

And so he did.

"What happened? I thought your hands were tied."

"Oh they were. But someone posted the video on YouTube."

Dick jaw dropped. Videos? On YouTube? From a dirty cop taking evidence from the GCPD, specifically to help his parents' murderer out of jail? That could only have been one person.

Bruce was so going to kill him.

Scratch that. _Jim_ was going to kill him.

Or maybe they would never know. Right? _Right?_

Dick was so, so dead. But before that, he would have to strangle Babs. Or to kiss her. Maybe both. The kiss first. Even though that would probably mean _she_ would be the one to kill _him_ – but since he was going to die either way, he was fine with that.

"On YouTube."

It was hard to tell if the main emotion in Batman's voice was disbelief or consternation. Dick bit his lips very hard not to laugh.

"On YouTube." Jim sounded smug. "The _Gotham Gazette_ put its hands on it before we could remove it."

"How unfortunate."

"It is, isn't it?" Jim lit a cigarette. "I'm sure Vicky Vale will be appalled when we'll tell her to write a retraction tomorrow."

"You mean, after the original article will have been published?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to be on shift yet." He exhaled some smoke. "And I'm so busy with Dent, I'm sure you know. A very important case. High-profile. Had to be closed as quickly as possible, Commissioner Loeb said."

Batman made a sound with his throat that wasn't exactly a chuckle but definitely couldn't be labeled as a cough.

"Any idea who might have posted the video in the first place?"

"Not yet. To be honest, whoever it is deserves a medal more than an investigation."

Dick could _hear_ Bruce's frown.

"Mh."

"Anyway. This has been a good day so far." Jim paused. "Don't glare at me. I'm not saying it's going to _stay_ that way. This is still Gotham."

"It is."

The detective conveniently turned his back to Batman to admire the city's skyline, allowing him to melt back into the shadows. He grabbed Dick and jumped from the rooftop with him, gliding back to the car with the teenager wrapped around him.

They were both smiling when they touched the ground.

"Get in the Batmobile", Batman said. "We're going home."

sososo

Batman's cape curled behind him, his steps echoing in the cave as he paced. Behind him, the computers were up and running, their screens glowing blue. The car was ready, turned to the cave's exist, her motor purring as if she was alive and impatient to start their ride.

Alfred stood at his side, imperturbable.

"How much longer?" Batman growled.

"I'm sure the young master is as impatient as you, sir."

Bruce sighed.

"More, certainly", he admitted. "I hope it's taking this long because he's double-checking his utility belt, not because we've put a mirror in the…"

He didn't get the chance to end his sentence: a shadow jumped on him from the ceiling with a war cry. Admittedly, it wasn't very frightening.

" _Geronimo!_ "

Bruce actually had to hide his start. He didn't fool Dick who laughed his ass off.

"I got you! I totally got you!"

"Very funny."

It was. But more than that, it was _impressive_. The boy was better at stealth than expected, especially with a bright _yellow_ cape. Batman had argued with him to make it entirely black – with, alright, _some_ red and no, not green – until he'd taken measures and just imposed the outside of the cape to be black. ' _It's fine if it's charcoal_ ', Dick had taunted.

"Everything fits?" Batman asked.

"I already tried it last week", Dick reminded him.

"It's not the same as moving around with it."

"It's going to be _fine_. I'm not supposed to get out of the car anyway. So, are we going yet?"

"Mh." Somehow, Batman found it hard to believe he would stay put. "Very well. Let's go, Robin."

The boy's laugh echoed in the Batcave, quickly followed by the car's engine roaring as they departed for new adventures.

THE END

sososo

Realisation: Ephy

Script: Ephy & Nusuth

…

sososo

Bonus: post credit scene

sososo

The corridor was dark, long and narrow. There was barely a sound at all. People here didn't laugh. They plotted and gritted their teeth and made sure to avenge whoever had put them in this damn hole.

A metallic sound echoed in this emptiness, regular, like clockwork. A man in orange walked toward the sound. He stopped at Dent's cell, leaning back against the doorframe. The ex-DA didn't even look up at him, keeping throwing his coin again and again, his jaw set, his face distorted into a horrible sneer.

Yet he was whispering.

"I'll get him. _I will_. Both of them."

The newcomer snorted.

"If you need help to kill someone, maybe I can help."

Dent finally glared at him.

"You're in here the same as I am", he pointed out, annoyed at the disturbance.

"I'm not staying."

"Really now? And what's the name of the man who pretends to slip out of Blackgate?"

The man entered the cell. His face got out of the shadow, revealing his eye-patch. He smirked.

"You may call me Slade."

sososo

 _Notes: And here's the last chapter! :) With also a bonus scene because - hey, this is a movie, right?_

 _I hope you've had as much fun reading it than I had writing it :)_


End file.
